955 


man       THE  MAN 
COULD 


RICHARD  HARDIN 


THE  MAN  WHO 
COULD  NOT  LOSE 


BY 

RICHARD   HARDING   DAVIS 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK::;:::::::::::::::::1911 


COPYMGHT,  IQII,  BV 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
Published  September,  1911 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULD  NOT  LOSE 

THE  Carters  had  married  in  haste  and  refused 
to  repent  at  leisure.  So  blindly  were  they 
in  love,  that  they  considered  their  marriage  their 
greatest  asset.  The  rest  of  the  world,  as  repre 
sented  by  mutual  friends,  considered  it  the  only 
thing  that  could  be  urged  against  either  of  them. 
While  single,  each  had  been  popular.  As  a  bach 
elor,  young  "Champ"  Carter  had  filled  his  modest 
place  acceptably.  Hostesses  sought  him  for  din 
ners  and  week-end  parties,  men  of  his  own  years, 
for  golf  and  tennis,  and  young  girls  liked  him 
because  when  he  talked  to  one  of  them  he  never 
talked  of  himself,  or  let  his  eyes  wander  toward 
any  other  girl.  He  had  been  brought  up  by  a 
rich  father  in  an  expensive  way,  and  the  rich 
father  had  then  died  leaving  Champneys  alone  in 
the  world,  with  no  money,  and  with  even  a  few 
of  his  father's  debts.  These  debts  of  honor  the 
son,  ever  since  leaving  Yale,  had  been  paying  off. 
It  had  kept  him  very  poor,  for  Carter  had  elected 
to  live  by  his  pen,  and,  though  he  wrote  very  care- 

3 

M114679 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

fully  and  slowly,  the  editors  of  the  magazines  had 
been  equally  careful  and  slow  in  accepting  what 
he  wrote. 

With  an  income  so  uncertain  that  the  only 
thing  that  could  be  said  of  it  with  certainty  was 
that  it  was  too  small  to  support  even  himself, 
Carter  should  not  have  thought  of  matrimony. 
Nor,  must  it  be  said  to  his  credit,  did  he  think 
of  it  until  the  girl  came  along  that  he  wanted  to 
marry. 

The  trouble  with  Dolly  Ingram  was  her  mother. 
Her  mother  was  a  really  terrible  person.  She  was 
quite  impossible.  She  was  a  social  leader,  and  of 
such  importance  that  visiting  princes  and  society 
reporters,  even  among  themselves,  did  not  laugh 
at  her.  Her  visiting  list  was  so  small  that  she  did 
not  keep  a  social  secretary,  but,  it  was  said,  wrote 
her  invitations  herself.  Stylites  on  his  pillar  was 
less  exclusive.  Nor  did  he  take  his  exalted  but 
lonely  position  with  less  sense  of  humor.  When 
Ingram  died  and  left  her  many  millions  to  dispose 
of  absolutely  as  she  pleased,  even  to  the  allowance 
she  should  give  their  daughter,  he  left  her  with 
but  one  ambition  unfulfilled.  That  was  to  marry 
her  Dolly  to  an  English  duke.  Hungarian  princes, 
French  marquises,  Italian  counts,  German  barons, 
Mrs.  Ingram  could  not  see.  Her  son-in-law  must 

4 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

be  a  duke.  She  had  her  eyes  on  two,  one  some 
what  shopworn,  and  the  other  a  bankrupt;  and  in 
training,  she  had  one  just  coming  of  age.  Already 
she  saw  herself  a  sort  of  dowager  duchess  by  mar 
riage,  discussing  with  real  dowager  duchesses  the 
way  to  bring  up  teething  earls  and  viscounts.  For 
three  years  in  Europe  Mrs.  Ingram  had  been  drill 
ing  her  daughter  for  the  part  she  intended  her  to 
play.  But,  on  returning  to  her  native  land,  Dolly, 
who  possessed  all  the  feelings,  thrills,  and  heart 
throbs  of  which  her  mother  was  ignorant,  ungrate 
fully  fell  deeply  in  love  with  Champneys  Carter, 
and  he  with  her. 

It  was  always  a  question  of  controversy  between 
them  as  to  which  had  first  fallen  in  love  with  the 
other.  As  a  matter  of  history,  honors  were  even. 

He  first  saw  her  during  a  thunder  storm,  in  the 
paddock  at  the  races,  wearing  a  rain-coat  with  the 
collar  turned  up  and  a  Panama  hat  with  the  brim 
turned  down.  She  was  talking,  in  terms  of  affec 
tionate  familiarity,  with  Cuthbert's  two-year-old, 
The  Scout.  The  Scout  had  just  lost  a  race  by  a 
nose,  and  Dolly  was  holding  the  nose  against  her 
cheek  and  comforting  him.  The  two  made  a 
charming  picture,  and,  as  Carter  stumbled  upon 
it  and  halted,  the  race-horse  lowered  his  eyes  and 
seemed  to  say:  "Wouldn't  you  throw  a  race  for 

5 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

this?"  And  the  girl  raised  her  eyes  and  seemed 
to  say:  "What  a  nice-looking,  bright-looking 
young  man!  Why  don't  I  know  who  you  are  ?" 

So,  Carter  ran  to  find  Cuthbert,  and  told  him 
The  Scout  had  gone  lame.  When,  on  their  return, 
Miss  Ingram  refused  to  loosen  her  hold  on  The 
Scout's  nose,  Cuthbert  apologetically  mumbled 
Carter's  name,  and  in  some  awe  Miss  Ingram's 
name,  and  then,  to  his  surprise,  both  young  people 
lost  interest  in  The  Scout,  and  wandered  away 
together  into  the  rain. 

After  an  hour,  when  they  parted  at  the  club 
stand,  for  which  Carter  could  not  afford  a  ticket, 
he  asked  wistfully:  "Do  you  often  come  racing  ?" 
and  Miss  Ingram  said:  "Do  you  mean,  am  I 
coming  to-morrow?" 

"I  do!  "said  Carter. 

"Then,  why  didn't  you  say  that?"  inquired 
Miss  Ingram.  "Otherwise  I  mightn't  have  come. 
I  have  the  Holland  House  coach  for  to-morrow, 
and,  if  you'll  join  us,  I'll  save  a  place  for  you,  and 
you  can  sit  in  our  box. 

"I've  lived  so  long  abroad,"  she  explained, 
"that  I'm  afraid  of  not  being  simple  and  direct 
like  other  American  girls.  Do  you  think  I'll  get 
on  here  at  home  ?" 

"If  you  get  on  with  every  one  else  as  well  as 
6 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

you've  got  on  with  me,"  said  Carter  morosely,  "I 
will  shoot  myself." 

Miss  Ingram  smiled  thoughtfully. 

"At  eleven,  then,"  she  said,  "in  front  of  the 
Holland  House." 

Carter  walked  away  with  a  flurried,  heated  suffo 
cation  around  his  heart  and  a  joyous  lightness  in 
his  feet.  Of  the  first  man  he  met  he  demanded, 
who  was  the  beautiful  girl  in  the  rain-coat  ?  And 
when  the  man  told  him,  Carter  left  him  without 
speaking.  For  she  was  quite  the  richest  girl  in 
America.  But  the  next  day  that  fault  seemed  to 
distress  her  so  little  that  Carter,  also,  refused  to 
allow  it  to  rest  on  his  conscience,  and  they  were 
very  happy.  And  each  saw  that  they  were  happy 
because  they  were  together. 

The  ridiculous  mother  was  not  present  at  the 
races,  but  after  Carter  began  to  call  at  their  house 
and  was  invited  to  dinner,  Mrs.  Ingram  received 
him  with  her  habitual  rudeness.  As  an  impedi 
ment  in  the  success  of  her  ambition  she  never  con 
sidered  him.  As  a  boy  friend  of  her  daughter's, 
she  classed  him  with  "her"  lawyer  and  "her" 
architect  and  a  little  higher  than  the  "person" 
who  arranged  the  flowers.  Nor,  in  her  turn,  did 
Dolly  consider  her  mother;  for  within  two  months 
another  matter  of  controversy  between  Dolly  and 

7 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

Carter  was  as  to  who  had  first  proposed  to  the 
other.  Carter  protested  there  never  had  been  any 
formal  proposal,  that  from  the  first  they  had  both 
taken  it  for  granted  that  married  they  would  be. 
But  Dolly  insisted  that  because  he  had  been  afraid 
of  her  money,  or  her  mother,  he  had  forced  her  to 
propose  to  him. 

"You  could  not  have  loved  me  very  much,"  she 
complained,  "if  you'd  let  a  little  thing  like  money 
make  you  hesitate." 

"It's  not  a  little  thing,"  suggested  Carter. 
"They  say  it's  several  millions,  and  it  happens  to 
be  yours.  If  it  were  mine,  now!" 

"Money,"  said  Dolly  sententiously,  "is  given 
people  to  make  them  happy,  not  to  make  them 
miserable." 

"Wait  until  I  sell  my  stories  to  the  magazines," 
said  Carter,  "and  then  I  will  be  independent  and 
can  support  you." 

The  plan  did  not  strike  Dolly  as  one  likely  to 
lead  to  a  hasty  marriage.  But  he  was  sensitive 
about  his  stories,  and  she  did  not  wish  to  hurt  his 
feelings. 

"Let's  get  married  first,"  she  suggested,  "and 
then  I  can  buy  you  a  magazine.  We'll  call  it  Car 
ter's  Magazine  and  we  will  print  nothing  in  it  but 
your  stories.  Then  we  can  laugh  at  the  editors!" 

8 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

"Not  half  as  loud  as  they  will,"  said  Carter. 

With  three  thousand  dollars  in  bank  and  three 
stories  accepted  and  seventeen  still  to  hear  from, 
and  with  Dolly  daily  telling  him  that  it  was  evi 
dent  he  did  not  love  her,  Carter  decided  they  were 
ready,  hand  in  hand,  to  leap  into  the  sea  of  matri 
mony.  His  interview  on  the  subject  with  Mrs. 
Ingram  was  most  painful.  It  lasted  during  the 
time  it  took  her  to  walk  out  of  her  drawing-room 
to  the  foot  of  her  staircase.  She  spoke  to  herself, 
and  the  only  words  of  which  Carter  was  sure  were 
"preposterous"  and  "intolerable  insolence."  Later 
in  the  morning  she  sent  a  note  to  his  flat,  forbid 
ding  him  not  only  her  daughter,  but  the  house  in 
which  her  daughter  lived,  and  even  the  use  of  the 
United  States  mails  and  the  New  York  telephone 
wires.  She  described  his  conduct  in  words  that, 
had  they  come  from  a  man,  would  have  afforded 
Carter  every  excuse  for  violent  exercise. 

Immediately  in  the  wake  of  the  note  arrived 
Dolly,  in  tears,  and  carrying  a  dressing-case. 

"I  have  left  mother!"  she  announced.  "And  I 
have  her  car  downstairs,  and  a  clergyman  in  it,  un 
less  he  has  run  away.  He  doesn't  want  to  marry 
us,  because  he's  afraid  mother  will  stop  supporting 
his  flower  mission.  You  get  your  hat  and  take 
me  where  he  can  marry  us.  No  mother  can  talk 

9 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

about  the  man  I  love  the  way  mother  talked  about 
you,  and  think  I  won't  marry  him  the  same  day!" 

Carter,  with  her  mother's  handwriting  still  red 
before  his  eyes,  and  his  self-love  shaken  with  rage, 
flourished  the  letter. 

"And  no  mother,"  he  shouted,  "can  call  me  a 
'fortune-hunter'  and  a  'cradle-robber'  and  think 
I'll  make  good  by  marrying  her  daughter!  Not 
until  she  BEGS  me  to!" 

Dolly  swept  toward  him  like  a  summer  storm. 
Her  eyes  were  wet  and  flashing. 

"Until  who  begs  you  to  ?"  she  demanded.  "Who 
are  you  marrying;  mother  or  me?" 

"If  I  marry  you,"  cried  Carter,  frightened  but 
also  greatly  excited,  "your  mother  won't  give  you 
a  penny!" 

"And  that,"  taunted  Dolly,  perfectly  aware  that 
she  was  ridiculous,  "is  why  you  won't  marry  me!" 

For  an  instant,  long  enough  to  make  her  blush 
with  shame  and  happiness,  Carter  grinned  at  her. 
"Now,  just  for  that,"  he  said,  "I  won't  kiss  you, 
and  I  will  marry  you!" 

But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  did  kiss  her. 

Then  he  gazed  happily  around  his  small  sitting- 
room. 

"Make  yourself  at  home  here,"  he  directed, 
"while  I  pack  my  bag." 

10 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

"I  mean  to  make  myself  very  much  at  home 
here,"  said  Dolly  joyfully,  "for  the  rest  of  my 
life." 

From  the  recesses  of  the  flat  Carter  called:  "The 
rent's  paid  only  till  September.  After  that  we  live 
in  a  hall  bedroom  and  cook  on  a  gas-stove.  And 
that's  no  idle  jest,  either." 

Fearing  the  publicity  of  the  City  Hall  license 
bureau,  they  released  the  clergyman,  much  to  the 
relief  of  that  gentleman,  and  told  the  chauffeur  to 
drive  arcoss  the  State  line  into  Connecticut. 

"It's  the  last  time  we  can  borrow  your  mother's 
car,"  said  Carter,  "and  we'd  better  make  it  go  as 
far  as  we  can." 

It  was  one  of  those  days  in  May.  Blue  was  the 
sky  and  sunshine  was  in  the  air,  and  in  the  park 
little  girls  from  the  tenements,  in  white,  were  play 
ing  they  were  queens.  Dolly  wanted  to  kidnap 
two  of  them  for  bridesmaids.  In  Harlem  they 
stopped  at  a  jeweller's  shop,  and  Carter  got  out 
and  bought  a  wedding-ring. 

In  the  Bronx  were  dogwood  blossoms  and  leaves 
of  tender  green  and  beds  of  tulips,  and  along  the 
Boston  Post  Road,  on  their  right,  the  Sound 
flashed  in  the  sunlight;  and  on  their  left,  gardens, 
lawns,  and  orchards  ran  with  the  road,  and  the 
apple  trees  were  masses  of  pink  and  white. 

ii 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

Whenever  a  car  approached  from  the  rear, 
Carter  pretended  it  was  Mrs.  Ingram  coming  to 
prevent  the  elopement,  and  Dolly  clung  to  him. 
When  the  car  had  passed,  she  forgot  to  stop  cling 
ing  to  him. 

In  Greenwich  Village  they  procured  a  license, 
and  a  magistrate  married  them,  and  they  were  a 
little  frightened  and  greatly  happy,  and,  they  both 
discovered  simulanteously,  outrageously  hungry. 
So  they  drove  through  Bedford  Village  to  South 
Salem,  and  lunched  at  the  Horse  and  Hounds  Inn, 
on  blue  and  white  china,  in  the  same  room  where 
Major  Andre  was  once  a  prisoner.  And  they  felt 
very  sorry  for  Major  Andre,  and  for  everybody 
who  had  not  been  just  married  that  morning. 
And  after  lunch  they  sat  outside  in  the  garden 
and  fed  lumps  of  sugar  to  a  charming  collie  and 
cream  to  a  fat  gray  cat. 

They  decided  to  start  housekeeping  in  Carter's 
flat,  and  so  turned  back  to  New  York,  this  time 
following  the  old  coach  road  through  North  Castle 
to  White  Plains,  across  to  Tarrytown,  and  along 
the  bank  of  the  Hudson  into  Riverside  Drive. 
Millions  and  millions  of  friendly  folk,  chiefly 
nurse-maids  and  traffic  policemen,  waved  to  them, 
and  for  some  reason  smiled. 

"The  joke  of  it  is,"  declared  Carter,  "they  don't 

12 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

know!  The  most  wonderful  event  of  the  century 
has  just  passed  into  history.  We  are  married,  and 
nobody  knows!" 

But  when  the  car  drove  away  from  in  front  of 
Carter's  door,  they  saw  on  top  of  it  two  old  shoes 
and  a  sign  reading:  "We  have  just  been  married." 
While  they  had  been  at  luncheon,  the  chauffeur 
had  risen  to  the  occasion. 

"After  all,"  said  Carter  soothingly,  "he  meant 
no  harm.  And  it's  the  only  thing  about  our  wed 
ding  yet  that  seems  legal." 

Three  months  later  two  very  unhappy  young 
people  faced  starvation  in  the  sitting-room  of  Car 
ter's  flat.  Gloom  was  written  upon  the  counte 
nance  of  each,  and  the  heat  and  the  care  that 
comes  when  one  desires  to  live,  and  lacks  the 
wherewithal  to  fulfil  that  desire,  had  made  them 
pallid  and  had  drawn  black  lines  under  Dolly's 
eyes. 

Mrs.  Ingram  had  played  her  part  exactly  as  her 
dearest  friends  had  said  she  would.  She  had  sent 
to  Carter's  flat,  seven  trunks  filled  with  Dolly's 
clothes,  eighteen  hats,  and  another  most  unpleas 
ant  letter.  In  this,  on  the  sole  condition  that 
Dolly  would  at  once  leave  her  husband,  she  offered 
to  forgive  and  to  support  her. 

To  this  Dolly  composed  eleven  scornful  answers, 
13 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

but  finally  decided  that  no  answer  at  all  was  the 
most  scornful. 

She  and  Carter  then  proceeded  joyfully  to  waste 
his  three  thousand  dollars  with  that  contempt  for 
money  with  which  on  a  honey-moon  it  should 
always  be  regarded.  When  there  was  no  more, 
Dolly  called  upon  her  mother's  lawyers  and  in 
quired  if  her  father  had  left  her  anything  in  her 
own  right.  The  lawyers  regretted  he  had  not,  but 
having  loved  Dolly  since  she  was  born,  offered  to 
advance  her  any  money  she  wanted.  They  said 
they  felt  sure  her  mother  would  "relent." 

"SHE  may,"  said  Dolly  haughtily.  "/  won't! 
And  my  husband  can  give  me  all  I  need.  I  only 
wanted  something  of  my  own,  because  I'm  going 
to  make  him  a  surprise  present  of  a  new  motor 
car.  The  one  we  are  using  now  does  not  suit  us." 

This  was  quite  true,  as  the  one  they  were  then 
using  ran  through  the  subway. 

As  summer  approached,  Carter  had  suddenly 
awakened  to  the  fact  that  he  soon  would  be  a 
pauper,  and  cut  short  the  honey -moon.  They  re 
turned  to  the  flat,  and  he  set  forth  to  look  for  a 
position.  Later,  while  still  looking  for  it,  he  spoke 
of  it  as  a  "job."  He  first  thought  he  would  like 
to  be  an  assistant  editor  of  a  magazine.  But  he 
found  editors  of  magazines  anxious  to  employ  new 

14 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

and  untried  assistants,  especially  in  June,  were 
very  few.  On  the  contrary,  they  explained  they 
were  retrenching  and  cutting  down  expenses — they 
meant  they  had  discharged  all  office  boys  who  re 
ceived  more  than  three  dollars  a  week.  They  fur 
ther  "retrenched,"  by  taking  a  mean  advantage  of 
Carter's  having  called  upon  them  in  person,  by 
handing  him  three  of  four  of  his  stories — but  by 
this  he  saved  his  postage-stamps. 

Each  day,  when  he  returned  to  the  flat,  Dolly, 
who  always  expected  each  editor  would  hastily 
dust  off  his  chair  and  offer  it  to  her  brilliant  hus 
band,  would  smile  excitedly  and  gasp,  "Well?" 
and  Carter  would  throw  the  rejected  manuscripts 
on  the  table  and  say:  "At  least,  I  have  not  re 
turned  empty-handed."  Then  they  would  discover 
a  magazine  that  neither  they  or  any  one  else  knew 
existed,  and  they  would  hurriedly  readdress  the 
manuscripts  to  that  periodical,  and  run  to  post 
them  at  the  letter-box  on  the  corner. 

"Any  one  of  them,  if  accepted"  Carter  would 
point  out,  "might  bring  us  in  twenty-five  dollars. 
A  story  of  mine  once  sold  for  forty;  so  to-night  we 
can  afford  to  dine  at  a  restaurant  where  wine  is 
not  'included.'" 

Fortunately,  they  never  lost  their  sense  of  hu 
mor.  Otherwise  the  narrow  confines  of  the  flat, 
the  evil  smells  that  rose  from  the  baked  streets, 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

the  greasy  food  of  Italian  and  Hungarian  restau 
rants,  and  the  ever-haunting  need  of  money  might 
have  crushed  their  youthful  spirits.  But  in  time 
even  they  found  that  one,  still  less  two,  cannot 
exist  exclusively  on  love  and  the  power  to  see  the 
bright  side  of  things — especially  when  there  is  no 
bright  side.  They  had  come  to  the  point  where  they 
must  borrow  money  from  their  friends,  and  that, 
though  there  were  many  who  would  have  opened 
their  safes  to  them,  they  had  agreed  was  the  one 
thing  they  would  not  do,  or  they  must  starve. 
The  alternative  was  equally  distasteful. 

Carter  had  struggled  earnestly  to  find  a  job. 
But  his  inexperience  and  the  season  of  the  year 
were  against  him.  No  newspaper  wanted  a  dra 
matic  critic  when  the  only  shows  in  town  had  been 
running  three  months,  and  on  roof  gardens;  nor 
did  they  want  a  "cub"  reporter  when  veterans 
were  being  "laid  off"  by  the  dozens.  Nor  were  his 
services  desired  as  a  private  secretary,  a  taxicab 
driver,  an  agent  to  sell  real  estate  or  automobiles 
or  stocks.  As  no  one  gave  him  a  chance  to  prove 
his  unfitness  for  any  of  these  callings,  the  fact  that 
he  knew  nothing  of  any  of  them  did  not  greatly 
matter.  At  these  rebuff's  Dolly  was  distinctly 
pleased.  She  argued  they  proved  he  was  intended 
to  pursue  his  natural  career  as  an  author. 

That  their  friends  might  know  they  were  poor 
16 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

did  not  affect  her,  but  she  did  not  want  them  to 
think  by  his  taking  up  any  outside  "job"  that 
they  were  poor  because  as  a  literary  genius  he 
was  a  failure.  She  believed  in  his  stories.  She 
wanted  every  one  else  to  believe  in  them.  Mean 
while,  she  assisted  him  in  so  far  as  she  could  by 
pawning  the  contents  of  five  of  the  seven  trunks, 
by  learning  to  cook  on  a  "Kitchenette,"  and  to 
laundry  her  handkerchiefs  and  iron  them  on  the 
looking-glass. 

They  faced  each  other  across  the  breakfast- 
table.  It  was  only  nine  o'clock,  but  the  sun  beat 
into  the  flat  with  the  breath  of  a  furnace,  and  the 
air  was  foul  and  humid. 

"I  tell  you,"  Carter  was  saying  fiercely,  "you 
look  ill.  You  are  ill.  You  must  go  to  the  sea 
shore.  You  must  visit  some  of  your  proud  friends 
at  East  Hampton  or  Newport.  Then  I'll  know 
you're  happy  and  I  won't  worry,  and  I'll  find 
a  job.  /  don't  mind  the  heat — and  I'll  write  you 
love  letters" — he  was  talking  very  fast  and  not 
looking  at  Dolly — "like  those  I  used  to  write  you, 
before- 
Dolly  raised  her  hand.  "Listen!"  she  said. 
"Suppose  I  leave  you.  What  will  happen?  I'll 
wake  up  in  a  cool,  beautiful  brass  bed,  won't  I  ? — 
with  cretonne  window-curtains,  and  salt  air  blow- 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

ing  them  about,  and  a  maid  to  bring  me  coffee. 
And  instead  of  a  bathroom  like  yours,  next  to  an 
elevator  shaft  and  a  fire-escape,  I'll  have  one  as 
big  as  a  church,  and  the  whole  blue  ocean  to  swim 
in.  And  I'll  sit  on  the  rocks  in  the  sunshine  and 
watch  the  waves  and  the  yachts " 

"And  grow  well  again!"  cried  Carter.  "But 
you'll  write  to  me,"  he  added  wistfully,  "every  day, 
won't  you  ?" 

In  her  wrath,  Dolly  rose,  and  from  across  the 
table  confronted  him. 

"And  what  will  I  be  doing  on  those  rocks  ?" 
she  cried.  "You  know  what  I'll  be  doing!  I'll 
be  sobbing,  and  sobbing,  and  calling  out  to  the 
waves:  'Why  did  he  send  me  away  ?  Why  doesn't 
he  want  me  ?  Because  he  doesn't  love  me.  That's 
why!  He  doesn't  love  me!'  And  you  DON'T!" 
cried  Dolly.  "You  DON'T!" 

It  took  him  all  of  three  minutes  to  persuade  her 
she  was  mistaken. 

"Very  well,  then,"  sobbed  Dolly,  "that's  settled. 
And  there'll  be  no  more  talk  of  sending  me 
away!" 

"There  will  wo/7" said  Champneys  hastily.  ''We 
will  now  9 "  he  announced,  "go  into  committee  of 
the  whole  and  decide  how  we  are  to  face  financial 
failure.  Our  assets  consist  of  two  stones,  accepted, 

18 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

but  not  paid  for,  and  fifteen  stories  not  accepted. 
In  cash" — he  spread  upon  the  table  a  meagre  col 
lection  of  soiled  bills  and  coins — "we  have  twenty- 
seven  dollars  and  fourteen  cents.  That  is  every 
penny  we  possess  in  the  world." 

Dolly  regarded  him  fixedly  and  shook  her  head. 

"Is  it  wicked,  "she  asked,  "to  love  you  so?" 

"Haven't  you  been  listening  to  me  ?"  demanded 
Carter. 

Again  Dolly  shook  her  head. 

"I  was  watching  the  way  you  talk.  When  your 
lips  move  fast  they  do  such  charming  things." 

"Do you  know,"  roared  Carter,  "that  we  haven't 
a  penny  in  the  world,  that  we  have  nothing  in  this 
flat  to  eat?" 

"  I  still  have  five  hats,"  said  Dolly. 

"We  can't  eat  hats,"  protested  Champneys. 

"We  can  sell  hats!"  returned  Dolly.  "They 
cost  eighty  dollars  apiece!" 

"When  you  need  money,"  explained  Carter,  "I 
find  it's  just  as  hard  to  sell  a  hat  as  to  eat  it." 

"Twenty-seven  dollars  and  fourteen  cents,"  re 
peated  Dolly.  She  exclaimed  remorsefully:  "And 
you  started  with  three  thousand!  What  did  I  do 
with  it?" 

"We  both  had  the  time  of  our  lives  with  it!" 
said  Carter  stoutly.  "And  that's  all  there  is  to 

19 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

that.  Post-mortems,"  he  pointed  out,  "are  useful 
only  as  guides  to  the  future,  and  as  our  future  will 
never  hold  a  second  three  thousand  dollars,  we 
needn't  worry  about  how  we  spent  the  first  one. 
No!  What  we  must  consider  now  is  how  we  can 
grow  rich  quick,  and  the  quicker  and  richer,  the 
better.  Pawning  our  clothes,  or  what's  left  of 
them,  is  bad  economics.  There's  no  use  consid 
ering  how  to  live  from  meal  to  meal.  We  must 
evolve  something  big,  picturesque,  that  will  bring 
a  fortune.  You  have  imagination;  I'm  supposed 
to  have  imagination;  we  must  think  of  a  plan  to 
get  money,  much  money.  I  do  not  insist  on  our 
plan  being  dignified,  or  even  outwardly  respect 
able;  so  long  as  it  keeps  you  alive,  it  may  be  as 
desperate  as " 

"I  see!"  cried  Dolly;  "like  sending  mother 
Black  Hand  letters!" 

"Blackmail — "  began  that  lady's  son-in-law 
doubtfully. 

"Or!"  cried  Dolly,  "we  might  kidnap  Mr.  Car 
negie  when  he's  walking  in  the  park  alone,  and 
hold  him  for  ransom.  Or" — she  rushed  on — "we 
might  forge  a  codicil  to  father's  will,  and  make  it 
say  if  mother  shouldn't  like  the  man  I  want  to 
marry,  all  of  father's  fortune  must  go  to  my  hus 
band!" 


20 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

"Forgery,"  exclaimed  Champneys,  "is  going 
further  than  I " 

"And  another  plan,"  interrupted  Dolly,  "that 
I  have  always  had  in  mind,  is  to  issue  a  cheaper 
edition  of  your  book,  'The  Dead  Heat/  The  rea 
son  the  first  edition  of  'The  Dead  Heat'  didn't 
sell-  -" 

"Don't  tell  ME  why  it  didn't  sell,"  said  Champ 
neys.  "I  wrote  it!" 

"That  book,"  declared  Dolly  loyally,  "was 
never  properly  advertised.  No  one  knew  about 
it,  so  no  one  bought  it!" 

"Eleven  people  bought  it!"  corrected  the  author. 

"We  will  put  it  in  a  paper  cover  and  sell  it  for 
fifty  cents,"  cried  Dolly.  "It's  the  best  detective 
story  I  ever  read,  and  people  have  got  to  know  it  is 
the  best.  So  we'll  advertise  it  like  a  breakfast  food." 

"The  idea,"  interrupted  Champneys,  "is  to 
make  money,  not  throw  it  away.  Besides,  we 
haven't  any  to  throw  away." 

Dolly  sighed  bitterly. 

"If  only,"  she  exclaimed,  "we  had  that  three 
thousand  dollars  back  again!  I'd  save  so  care 
fully.  It  was  all  my  fault.  The  races  took  it, 
but  it  was  /  took  you  to  the  races." 

"No  one  ever  had  to  drag  me  to  the  races," 
said  Carter.  "It  was  the  way  we  went  that  was 

21 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

extravagant.  Automobiles  by  the  hour  standing 
idle,  and  a  box  each  day,  and " 

"And  always  backing  Dromedary,"  suggested 
Dolly. 

Carter  was  touched  on  a  sensitive  spot. 

"That  horse,"  he  protested  loudly,  "is  a  mighty 
good  horse.  Some  day " 

"That's  what  you  always  said,"  remarked  Dolly, 
"but  he  never  seems  to  have  his  day." 

"It's  strange,"  said  Champneys  consciously.  "I 
dreamed  of  Dromedary  only  last  night.  Same 
dream  over  and  over  again." 

Hastily  he  changed  the  subject. 

"For  some  reason  I  don't  sleep  well.  I  don't 
know  why." 

Dolly  looked  at  him  with  all  the  love  in  her  eyes 
of  a  mother  over  her  ailing  infant. 

"It's  worrying  over  me,  and  the  heat,"  she  said. 
"And  the  garage  next  door,  and  the  sky-scraper 
going  up  across  the  street,  might  have  something 
to  do  with  it.  And  YOU,"  she  mocked  tenderly, 
"wanted  to  send  me  to  the  sea-shore." 

Carter  was  frowning.  As  though  about  to 
speak,  he  opened  his  lips,  and  then  laughed  em- 
barrassedly. 

"Out  with  it,"  said  Dolly,  with  an  encouraging 
smile.  "Did  he  win?" 

22 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

Seeing  she  had  read  what  was  in  his  mind, 
Carter  leaned  forward  eagerly.  The  ruling  pas 
sion  and  a  touch  of  superstition  held  him  in  their 


"He  'win'  each  time,"  he  whispered.  "I  saw 
it  as  plain  as  I  see  you.  Each  time  he  came  up 
with  a  rush  just  at  the  same  place,  just  as  they 
entered  the  stretch,  and  each  time  he  won!"  He 
slapped  his  hand  disdainfully  upon  the  dirty  bills 
before  him.  "  If  I  had  a  hundred  dollars  !  " 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Carter 
opened  it  to  the  elevator  boy  with  the  morning 
mail.  The  letters,  save  one,  Carter  dropped  upon 
the  table.  That  one,  with  clumsy  fingers,  he  tore 
open.  He  exclaimed  breathlessly:  "It's  from 
Plympton's  Magazine!  Maybe  —  I've  sold  a  story!" 
He  gave  a  cry  almost  of  alarm.  His  voice  was 
as  solemn  as  though  the  letter  had  announced  a 
death. 

"Dolly,"  he  whispered,  "it's  a  check  —  a  check 
for  a  hundred  dollars!  " 

Guiltily,  the  two  young  people  looked  at  each 
other. 

"  We've  got  to!"  breathed  Dolly.  "Go/  to!  If 
we  let  TWO  signs  like  that  pass,  we'd  be  flying  in 
the  face  of  Providence." 

With  her  hands  gripping  the  arms  of  her  chair, 
23 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

she  leaned  forward,  her  eyes  staring  into  space, 
her  lips  moving. 

"Come  on,  you  Dromedary!"  she  whispered. 

They  changed  the  check  into  five  and  ten  dollar 
bills,  and,  as  Carter  was  far  too  excited  to  work, 
made  an  absurdly  early  start  for  the  race-track. 

"We  might  as  well  get  all  the  fresh  air  we  can," 
said  Dolly.  "That's  all  we  will  get!." 

From  their  reserve  fund  of  twenty-seven  dollars 
which  each  had  solemnly  agreed  with  the  other 
would  not  be  risked  on  race-horses,  Dolly  sub 
tracted  a  two-dollar  bill.  This  she  stuck  con 
spicuously  across  the  face  of  the  clock  on  the 
mantel. 

"Why?"  asked  Carter. 

"When  we  get  back  this  evening,"  Dolly  ex 
plained,  "that  will  be  the  first  thing  we'll  see. 
It's  going  to  look  awfully  good!" 

This  day  there  was  no  scarlet  car  to  rush  them 
with  refreshing  swiftness  through  Brooklyn's  park 
ways  and  along  the  Ocean  Avenue.  Instead,  they 
hung  to  a  strap  in  a  cross-town  car,  changed  to 
the  ferry,  and  again  to  the  Long  Island  Railroad. 
When  Carter  halted  at  the  special  car  of  the  Turf 
Club,  Dolly  took  his  arm  and  led  him  forward  to 
the  day  coach. 

"But,"  protested  Carter,  "when  you're  spending 
24 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

a  hundred  dollars  with  one  hand,  why  grudge  fifty 
cents  for  a  parlor-car  seat  ?  If  you're  going  to  be 
a  sport,  be  a  sport." 

"And  if  you've  got  to  be  a  piker,"  said  Dolly, 
"don't  be  ashamed  to  be  a  piker.  We're  not 
spending  a  hundred  dollars  because  we  can  afford 
it,  but  because  you  dreamt  a  dream.  You  didn't 
dream  you  were  riding  in  parlor-cars!  If  you 
did,  it's  time  I  woke  you." 

This  day  there  was  for  them  no  box  overlook 
ing  the  finish,  no  club-house  luncheon.  With  the 
other  pikers,  they  sat  in  the  free  seats,  with  those 
who  sat  coatless  and  tucked  their  handkerchiefs 
inside  their  collars,  and  with  those  who  mopped 
their  perspiring  countenances  with  rice-paper  and 
marked  their  cards  with  a  hat-pin.  Their  lunch 
consisted  of  a  massive  ham  sandwich  with  a  top 
dressing  of  mustard. 

Dromedary  did  not  run  until  the  fifth  race, 
and  the  long  wait,  before  they  could  learn  their 
fate,  was  intolerable.  They  knew  most  of  the 
horses,  and,  to  pass  the  time,  on  each  of  the  first 
races  Dolly  made  imaginary  bets.  Of  these  men 
tal  wagers,  she  lost  every  one. 

"  If  you  turn  out  to  be  as  bad  a  guesser  when 
you're  asleep  as  I  am  when  I'm  awake,"  said 
Dolly,  "we're  going  to  lose  our  fortune." 

25 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

"I'm  weakening !"  declared  Carter.  "A  hun 
dred  dollars  is  beginning  to  look  to  me  like  an 
awful  lot  of  money.  Twenty-seven  dollars — and 
there's  only  twenty  of  that  left  now — is  mighty 
small  capital,  but  twenty  dollars  plus  a  hundred 
could  keep  us  alive  for  a  month!" 

"Did  you,  or  did  you  not,  dream  that  Drome 
dary  would  win  ?"  demanded  Dolly  sternly. 

"I  certainly  did,  several  times,"  said  Carter. 
"But  it  may  be  I  was  thinking  of  the  horse.  I've 
lost  such  a  lot  on  him,  my  mind  may  have " 


"Did  you,"  interrupted  Dolly,  "say  if  you  had 
a  hundred  dollars  you'd  bet  it,  and  did  a  hundred 
dollars  walk  in  through  the  door  instantly?" 

Carter,  reassured,  breathed  again. 

"It  certainly  did!"  he  repeated. 

Even  in  his  proud  days,  Carter  had  never  been 
able  to  bet  heavily,  and  instead  of  troubling  the 
club-house  commissioners  with  his  small  wagers, 
he  had,  in  the  ring,  bet  ready  money.  Moreover, 
he  believed  in  the  ring  he  obtained  more  favorable 
odds,  and,  when  he  won,  it  pleased  him,  instead  of 
waiting  until  settling-day  for  a  check,  to  stand  in 
a  line  and  feel  the  real  money  thrust  into  his 
hand.  So,  when  the  fourth  race  started  he  rose 
and  raised  his  hat. 

"The  time  has  come,"  he  said. 
26 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

Without  looking  at  him,  Dolly  nodded.  She 
was  far  too  tremulous  to  speak. 

For  several  weeks  Dromedary  had  not  been 
placed,  and  Carter  hoped  for  odds  of  at  least  ten 
to  one.  But,  when  he  pushed  his  way  into  the 
arena,  he  found  so  little  was  thought  of  his  choice 
that  as  high  as  twenty  to  one  was  being  offered, 
and  with  few  takers.  The  fact  shattered  his  con 
fidence.  Here  were  two  hundred  book-makers, 
trained  to  their  calling,  anxious  at  absurd  odds 
to  back  their  opinion  that  the  horse  he  liked  could 
not  win.  In  the  face  of  such  unanimous  contempt, 
his  dream  became  fantastic,  fatuous.  He  decided 
he  would  risk  only  half  of  his  fortune.  Then, 
should  the  horse  win,  he  still  would  be  passing 
rich,  and  should  he  lose,  he  would,  at  least,  have 
all  of  fifty  dollars. 

With  a  book-maker  he  wagered  that  sum,  and 
then,  in  unhappy  indecision,  stood,  in  one  hand 
clutching  his  ticket  that  called  for  a  potential 
thousand  and  fifty  dollars,  and  in  the  other  an 
actual  fifty.  It  was  not  a  place  for  meditation. 
From  every  side  men,  more  or  less  sane,  swept 
upon  him,  jostled  him,  and  stamped  upon  him, 
and  still,  struggling  for  a  foothold,  he  swayed, 
hesitating.  Then  he  became  conscious  that  the 
ring  was  nearly  empty,  that  only  a  few  shrieking 

27 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

individuals  still  ran  down  the  line.  The  horses 
were  going  to  the  post.  He  must  decide  quickly. 
In  front  of  him  the  book-maker  cleaned  his  board, 
and,  as  a  final  appeal,  opposite  the  names  of  three 
horses  chalked  thirty  to  one.  Dromedary  was 
among  them.  Such  odds  could  not  be  resisted.  Car 
ter  shoved  his  fifty  at  the  man,  and  to  that  sum 
added  the  twenty  dollars  still  in  his  pocket.  They 
were  the  last  dollars  he  owned  in  the  world.  And 
though  he  knew  they  were  his  last,  he  was  fearful 
lest  the  book-maker  would  refuse  them.  But,  me 
chanically,  the  man  passed  them  over  his  shoulder. 

"And  twenty-one  hundred  to  seventy,"  he 
chanted. 

When  Carter  took  his  seat  beside  Dolly,  he  was 
quite  cold.  Still,  Dolly  did  not  speak.  Out  of 
the  corner  of  her  eyes  she  questioned  him. 

"I  got  fifty  at  twenty  to  one,"  replied  Carter, 
"and  seventy  at  thirty!" 

In  alarm,  Dolly  turned  upon  him. 

"SEVENTY!"  she  gasped. 

Carter  nodded.  "All  we  have,"  he  said.  "We 
have  sixty  cents  left,  to  start  life  over  again!" 

As  though  to  encourage  him,  Dolly  placed  her 
finger  on  her  race-card. 

"His  colors,"  she  said,  "are  'green  cap,  green 
jacket,  green  and  white  hoops.'" 

28 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

Through  a  maze  of  heat,  a  half-mile  distant, 
at  the  starting-gate,  little  spots  of  color  moved  in 
impatient  circles.  The  big,  good-natured  crowd 
had  grown  silent,  so  silent  that  from  the  high,  sun- 
warmed  grass  in  the  infield  one  could  hear  the 
lazy  chirp  of  the  crickets. 

As  though  repeating  a  prayer,  or  an  incantation, 
Dolly's  lips  were  moving  quickly. 

"Green  cap,"  she  whispered,  "green  jacket, 
green  and  white  hoops !" 

With  a  sharp  sigh  the  crowd  broke  the  silence. 
"They're  off!"  it  cried,  and  leaned  forward  ex 
pectant. 

The  horses  came  so  fast.  To  Carter  their  con 
duct  seemed  outrageous.  It  was  incredible  that 
in  so  short  a  time,  at  a  pace  so  reckless,  they  would 
decide  a  question  of  such  moment.  They  came 
bunched  together,  shifting  and  changing,  with, 
through  the  dust,  flashes  of  blue  and  gold  and 
scarlet.  A  jacket  of  yellow  shot  out  of  the  dust 
and  showed  in  front;  a  jacket  of  crimson  followed. 
So  they  were  at  the  half;  so  they  were  at  the 
three-quarters. 

The  good-natured  crowd  began  to  sway,  to 
grumble  and  murmur,  then  to  shout  in  sharp 
staccato. 

"Can  you  see  him  ?"  begged  Dolly. 
29 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

"No,"  said  Carter.  "You  Jon't  see  him  until 
they  reach  the  stretch." 

;  One  could  hear  their  hoofs,  could  see  the  crimson 
jockey  draw  his  whip.  At  the  sight,  for  he  rode  the 
favorite,  the  crowd  gave  a  great  gasp  of  concern. 

"Oh  you  Gold  Heels!"  it  implored. 

Under  the  whip,  Gold  Heels  drew  even  with  the 
yellow  jacket;  stride  by  stride,  they  fought  it  out 
alone. 

"Gold  Heels!"  cried  the  crowd. 

Behind  them,  in  a  curtain  of  dust,  pounded  the 
field.  It  charged  in  a  flying  wedge,  like  a  troop  of 
cavalry.  Dolly,  searching  for  a  green  jacket,  saw, 
instead,  a  rainbow  wave  of  color  that,  as  it  rose 
and  fell,  sprang  toward  her  in  great  leaps,  swal 
lowing  the  track. 

"Gold  Heels!"  yelled  the  crowd. 

The  field  swept  into  the  stretch.  Without  mov 
ing  his  eyes,  Carter  caught  Dolly  by  the  wrist  and 
pointed.  As  though  giving  a  signal,  he  shot  his 
free  hand  into  the  air. 

"Now!"  he  shouted. 

From  the  curtain  of  dust,  as  lightning  strikes 
through  a  cloud,  darted  a  great,  raw-boned,  ugly 
chestnut.  Like  the  Empire  Express,  he  came 
rocking,  thundering,  spurning  the  ground.  At  his 
coming,  Gold  Heels,  to  the  eyes  of  the  crowd, 

30 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

seemed  to  falter,  to  slacken,  to  stand  still.  The 
crowd  gave  a  great  cry  of  amazement,  a  yell  of 
disgust.  The  chestnut  drew  even  with  Gold  Heels, 
passed  him,  and  swept  under  the  wire.  Clinging 
to  his  neck  was  a  little  jockey  in  a  green  cap,  green 
jacket,  and  hoops  of  green  and  white. 

Dolly's  hand  was  at  her  side,  clutching  the  bench. 
Carter's  hand  still  clasped  it.  Neither  spoke  or 
looked  at  the  other.  For  an  instant,  while  the 
crowd,  no  longer  so  good-natured,  mocked  and 
jeered  at  itself,  the  two  young  people  sat  quite 
still,  staring  at  the  green  field,  at  the  white  clouds 
rolling  from  the  ocean.  Dolly  drew  a  long  breath. 

"Let's  go!"  she  gasped.  "Let's  thank  him  first, 
and  then — take  me  home!" 

They  found  Dromedary  in  the  paddock,  and 
thanked  him,  and  Carter  left  Dolly  with  him, 
while  he  ran  to  collect  his  winnings.  When  he 
returned,  he  showed  her  a  sheaf  of  yellow  bills, 
and  as  they  ran  down  the  covered  board  walk  to 
the  gate,  they  skipped  and  danced. 

Dolly  turned  toward  the  train  drawn  up  at  the 
entrance. 

"Not  with  me!"  shouted  Carter.  "We're  go 
ing  home  in  the  reddest,  most  expensive,  fastest 
automobile  I  can  hire!" 

In  the  "hack"  line  of  motor-cars  was  one  that 
31 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

answered  those  requirements,  and  they  fell  into 
it  as  though  it  were  their  own. 

"To  the  Night  and  Day  Bank!"  commanded 
Carter. 

With  the  genial  democracy  of  the  race-track,  the 
chauffeur  lifted  his  head  to  grin  appreciatively. 

"That  listens  good  to  me!"  he  said. 

"I  like  him!"  whispered  Dolly.  "Let's  buy 
him  and  the  car." 

On  the  way  home,  they  bought  many  cars;  every 
car  they  saw,  that  they  liked,  they  bought.  They 
bought,  also,  several  houses,  and  a  yacht  that  they 
saw  from  the  ferry-boat.  And  as  soon  as  they  had 
deposited  the  most  of  their  money  in  the  bank, 
they  went  to  a  pawnshop  in  Sixth  Avenue  and 
bought  back  many  possessions  that  they  had  feared 
they  never  would  see  again. 

When  they  entered  the  flat,  the  thing  they  first 
beheld  was  Dolly's  two-dollar  bill. 

"What,"  demanded  Carter,  with  repugnance, 
"is  that  strange  piece  of  paper  ?" 

Dolly  examined  it  carefully. 

"I  think  it  is  a  kind  of  money,"  she  said,  "used 
by  the  lower  classes." 

They  dined  on  the  roof  at  Delmonico's.  Dolly 
wore  the  largest  of  the  five  hats  still  unsold,  and 

32 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

Carter  selected  the  dishes  entirely  according  to 
which  was  the  most  expensive.  Every  now  and 
again  they  would  look  anxiously  down  across  the 
street  at  the  bank  that  held  their  money.  They 
were  nervous  lest  it  should  take  fire. 

"We  can  be  extravagant  to-night,"  said  Dolly, 
"because  we  owe  it  to  Dromedary  to  celebrate. 
But  from  to-night  on  we  must  save.  We've  had 
an  awful  lesson.  What  happened  to  us  last  month 
must  never  happen  again.  We  were  down  to  a 
two-dollar  bill.  Now  we  have  twenty-five  hun 
dred  across  the  street,  and  you  have  several  hun 
dreds  in  your  pocket.  On  that  we  can  live  easily 
for  a  year.  Meanwhile,  you  can  write  'the'  great 
American  novel  without  having  to  worry  about 
money,  or  to  look  for  a  'steady  job.'  And  then 
your  book  will  come  out,  and  you  will  be  famous, 
and  rich,  and " 

"Passing  on  from  that,"  interrupted  Carter, 
"the  thing  of  first  importance  is  to  get  you  out  of 
that  hot,  beastly  flat.  I  propose  we  start  to-mor 
row  for  Cape  Cod.  I  know  a  lot  of  fishing  villages 
there  where  we  could  board  and  lodge  for  twelve 
dollars  a  week,  and  row  and  play  tennis  and  live 
in  our  bathing  suits." 

Dolly  assented  with  enthusiasm,  and  during  the 
courses  of  the  dinner  they  happily  discussed  Cape 

33 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

Cod  from  Pocasset  to  Yarmouth,  and  from  Sand 
wich  to  Provincetown.  So  eager  were  they  to 
escape,  that  Carter  telephoned  the  hallman  at  his 
club  to  secure  a  cabin  for  the  next  afternoon  on 
the  Fall  River  boat. 

As  they  sat  over  their  coffee  in  the  cool  breeze, 
with  in  the  air  the  scent  of  flowers  and  the  swing 
of  music,  and  with  at  their  feet  the  lights  of  the 
great  city,  the  world  seemed  very  bright. 

"It  has  been  a  great  day,"  sighed  Carter. 
"And  if  I  hadn't  had  nervous  prostration  I  would 
have  enjoyed  it.  That  race-course  is  always  cool, 
and  there  were  some  fine  finishes.  I  noticed  two 
horses  that  would  bear  watching,  Her  Highness 
and  Glowworm.  If  we  weren't  leaving  to-morrow, 
I'd  be  inclined " 

Dolly  regarded  him  with  eyes  of  horror. 

"Champneys  Carter!"  she  exclaimed.  As  she 
said  it,  it  sounded  like  "Great  Jehoshaphat!" 

Carter  protested  indignantly.  "I  only  said," 
he  explained,  "//  I  were  following  the  races,  I'd 
watch  those  horses.  Don't  worry!"  he  exclaimed. 
"I  know  when  to  stop." 

The  next  morning  they  took  breakfast  on  the 
tiny  terrace  of  a  restaurant  overlooking  Bryant 
Park,  where,  during  the  first  days  of  their  honey 
moon,  they  had  always  breakfasted.  For  senti- 

34 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

mental  reasons  they  now  revisited  it.  But  Dolly 
was  eager  to  return  at  once  to  the  flat  and  pack, 
and  Carter  seemed  distrait.  He  explained  that 
he  had  had  a  bad  night. 

"I'm  so  sorry,"  sympathized  Dolly,  "but  to 
night  you  will  have  a  fine  sleep  going  up  the 
Sound.  Any  more  nightmares?"  she  asked. 

"  Nightmares ! "  exploded  Carter  fiercely.  "Night 
mares  they  certainly  were!  I  dreamt  two  of  the 
nightmares  won!  I  saw  them,  all  night,  just  as  I 
saw  Dromedary — Her  Highness  and  Glowworm, 
winning,  winning,  winning!" 

"Those  were  the  horses  you  spoke  about  last 
night,"  said  Dolly  severely.  "After  so  wonderful 
a  day,  of  course  you  dreamt  of  racing,  and  those 
two  horses  were  in  your  mind.  That's  the  ex 
planation." 

They  returned  to  the  flat  and  began,  indus 
triously,  to  pack.  About  twelve  o'clock  Carter, 
coming  suddenly  into  the  bedroom  where  Dolly 
was  alone,  found  her  reading  the  Morning  Tele- 
graph.  It  was  open  at  the  racing  page  of  "past 
performances." 

She  dropped  the  paper  guiltily.  Carter  kicked 
a  hat-box  out  of  his  way  and  sat  down  on  a 
trunk. 

"I  don't  see,"  he  began,  "why  we  can't  wait 
35 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

one  more  day.  We'd  be  just  as  near  the  ocean 
at  Sheepshead  Bay  race-track  as  on  a  Fall  River 
boat,  and " 

He  halted  and  frowned  unhappily.  "We  needn't 
bet  more  then  ten  dollars,"  he  begged. 

"Of  course,"  declared  Dolly,  "if  they  should 
win,  you'll  always  blame  me  I" 

Carter's  eyes  shone  hopefully. 

"And,"  continued  Dolly,  "I  can't  bear  to  have 
you  blame  me.  So " 

"Get  your  hat!"  shouted  Carter,  "or  we'll  miss 
the  first  race." 

Carter  telephoned  for  a  cab,  and  as  they  were 
entering  it  said  guiltily:  "I've  got  to  stop  at  the 
bank." 

"You  have  not!"  announced  Dolly.  "That 
money  is  to  keep  us  alive  while  you  write  the  great 
American  novel.  I'm  glad  to  spend  another  day 
at  the  races,  and  I'm  willing  to  back  your  dreams 
as  far  as  ten  dollars,  but  for  no  more." 

"If  my  dreams  come  true,"  warned  Carter, 
"you'll  be  awfully  sorry." 

"Not  I,"  said  Dolly.  "I'll  merely  send  you  to 
bed,  and  you  can  go  on  dreaming." 

When  Her  Highness  romped  home,  an  easy  win 
ner,  the  look  Dolly  turned  upon  her  husband  was 
one  both  of  fear  and  dismay. 

36 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

"I  don't  like  it!"  she  gasped.  "It's— it's  un 
canny.  It  gives  me  a  creepy  feeling.  It  makes 
you  seem  sort  of  supernatural.  And  oh,"  she 
cried,  "if  only  I  had  let  you  bet  all  you  had  with 

you!" 

"I  did,"  stammered  Carter,  in  extreme  agita 
tion.  "I  bet  four  hundred.  I  got  five  to  one, 
Dolly,"  he  gasped,  in  awe;  "we've  won  two  thou 
sand  dollars." 

Dolly  exclaimed  rapturously: 

"We'll  put  it  all  in  bank,"  she  cried. 

"We'll  put  it  all  on  Glowworm!"  said  her  hus 
band. 

"Champ!"  begged  Dolly.     "Don't  push  your 

luck.     Stop  while " 

Carter  shook  his  head. 

"It's  NOT  luck!"  he  growled.  "It's  a  gift,  it's 
second  sight,  it's  prophecy.  I've  been  a  full- 
fledged  clairvoyant  all  my  life,  and  didn't  know  it. 
Anyway,  I'm  a  sport,  and  after  two  of  my  dreams 
breaking  right,  I've  got  to  back  the  third  one!" 

Glowworm  was  at  ten  to  one,  and  at  those  odds 
the  book-makers  to  whom  he  first  applied  did  not 
care  to  take  so  large  a  sum  as  he  offered.  Carter 
found  a  book-maker  named  "Sol"  Burbankwho, 
at  those  odds,  accepted  his  two  thousand. 

When  Carter  returned  to  collect  his  twenty-two 
37 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

thousand,  there  was  some  little  delay  while  Bur- 
bank  borrowed  a  portion  of  it.  He  looked  at  Carter 
curiously  and  none  too  genially. 

"Wasn't  it  you,"  he  asked,  "that  had  that  thirty- 
to-one  shot  yesterday  on  Dromedary  ?" 

Carter  nodded  somewhat  guiltily.  A  man  in  the 
crowd  volunteered:  "And  he  had  Her  Highness  in 
the  second,  too,  for  four  hundred." 

"You've  made  a  good  day,"  said  Burbank. 
"Give  me  a  chance  to  get  my  money  back  to 
morrow." 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Carter.  "I'm  leaving  New 
York  to-morrow." 

The  same  scarlet  car  bore  them  back  trium 
phant  to  the  bank. 

"Twenty-two  thousand  dollars?"  gasped  Car 
ter,  "in  cash!  How  in  the  name  of  all  that's  hon 
est  can  we  celebrate  winning  twenty-two  thousand 
dollars  ?  We  can't  eat  more  than  one  dinner;  we 
can't  drink  more  than  two  quarts  of  champagne — 
not  without  serious  results." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we  can  do!"  cried  Dolly  exci 
tedly.  "We  can  sail  to-morrow  on  the  Campania!" 

"Hurrah!"  shouted  Carter.  "We'll  have  a  sec 
ond  honey-moon.  We'll  'shoot  up'  London  and 
Paris.  We'll  tear  slices  out  of  the  map  of  Europe. 
You'll  ride  in  one  motor-car,  I'll  ride  in  another, 

38 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

we'll  have  a  maid  and  a  valet  in  a  third,  and  we'll 
race  each  other  all  the  way  to  Monte  Carlo.  And, 
there,  I'll  dream  of  the  winning  numbers,  and 
we'll  break  the  bank.  When  does  the  Campania 
sail?" 

"At  noon,"  said  Dolly. 

"At  eight  we  will  be  on  board,"  said  Carter. 

But  that  night  in  his  dreams  he  saw  King  Pep 
per,  Confederate,  and  Red  Wing  each  win  a  race. 
And  in  the  morning  neither  the  engines  of  the 
Campania  nor  the  entreaties  of  Dolly  could  keep 
him  from  the  race-track. 

"I  want  only  six  thousand,"  he  protested.  "You 
can  do  what  you  like  with  the  rest,  but  I  am  going 
to  bet  six  thousand  on  the  first  one  of  those  three 
to  start.  If  he  loses,  I  give  you  my  word  I'll  not 
bet  another  cent,  and  we'll  sail  on  Saturday.  If  he 
wins  out,  I'll  put  all  I  make  on  the  two  others." 

"Can't  you  see,"  begged  Dolly,  "that  your 
dreams  are  just  a  rehash  of  what  you  think  during 
the  day  ?  You  have  been  playing  in  wonderful 
luck,  that's  all.  Each  of  those  horses  is  likely  to 
win  his  race.  When  he  does  you  will  have  more 
faith  than  ever  in  your  silly  dreams " 

"My  silly  dreams,"  said  Carter  grinning,  "are 
carrying  you  to  Europe,  first  class,  by  the  next 


steamer," 


39 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

They  had  been  talking  while  on  their  way  to  the 
bank.  When  Dolly  saw  she  could  not  alter  his 
purpose,  she  made  him  place  the  nineteen  thou 
sand  that  remained,  after  he  had  taken  out  the 
six  thousand,  in  her  name.  She  then  drew  out 
the  entire  amount. 

"You  told  me,"  said  Dolly,  smiling  anxiously, 
"  I  could  do  what  I  liked  with  it.  Maybe  I  have 
dreams  also.  Maybe  I  mean  to  back  them." 

She  drove  away,  mysteriously  refusing  to  tell 
him  what  she  intended  to  do.  When  they  met  at 
luncheon,  she  was  still  much  excited,  still  bristling 
with  a  concealed  secret. 

"Did  you  back  your  dream?"  asked  Carter. 

Dolly  nodded  happily. 

"And  when  am  I  to  know?" 

"You  will  read  of  it,"  said  Dolly,  "to-morrow, 
in  the  morning  papers.  It's  all  quite  correct.  My 
lawyers  arranged  it." 

"Lawyers!"  gasped  her  husband.  "You're  not 
arranging  to  lock  me  in  a  private  mad-house,  are 
you  ?" 

"No,"  laughed  Dolly;  "but  when  I  told  them 
how  I  intended  to  invest  the  money  they  came  near 
putting  me  there." 

"Didn't  they  want  to  know  how  you  suddenly 
got  so  rich  ?"  asked  Carter. 

40 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

"They  did.  I  told  them  it  came  from  my  hus 
band's  'books'!  It  was  a  very  'near'  falsehood." 

"It  was  worse,"  said  Carter.  "It  was  a  very 
poor  pun." 

As  in  their  honey-moon  days  they  drove  proudly 
to  the  track,  and  when  Carter  had  placed  Dolly  in 
a  box  large  enough  for  twenty,he  pushed  his  way  into 
the  crowd  around  the  stand  of  "Sol"  Burbank. 
That  veteran  of  the  turf  welcomed  him  gladly. 

"Coming  to  give  me  my  money  back?"  he 
called. 

"No,  to  take  some  away,"  said  Carter,  handing 
him  his  six  thousand. 

Without  apparently  looking  at  it,  Burbank 
passed  it  to  his  cashier.  "  King  Pepper,  twelve  to 
six  thousand,"  he  called. 

When  King  Pepper  won,  and  Carter  moved 
around  the  ring  with  eighteen  thousand  dollars 
in  thousand  and  five  hundred  dollar  bills  in  his 
fist,  he  found  himself  beset  by  a  crowd  of  curious, 
eager  "pikers."  They  both  impeded  his  operations 
and  acted  as  a  body-guard.  Confederate  was  an 
almost  prohibitive  favorite  at  one  to  three,  and  in 
placing  eighteen  thousand  that  he  might  win  six, 
Carter  found  little  difficulty.  When  Confederate 
won,  and  he  started  with  his  twenty-four  thousand 
to  back  Red  Wing,  the  crowd  now  engulfed  him. 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

Men  and  boys  who  when  they  wagered  five  and 
ten  dollars  were  risking  their  all,  found  in  the  sight 
of  a  young  man  offering  bets  in  hundreds  and  thou 
sands  a  thrilling  and  fascinating  spectacle.  To 
learn  what  horse  he  was  playing  and  at  what  odds, 
racing  touts  and  runners  for  other  book-makers 
and  individual  speculators  leaped  into  the  mob  that 
surrounded  him,  and  then,  squirming  their  way 
out,  ran  shrieking  down  the  line.  In  ten  minutes, 
through  the  bets  of  Carter  and  those  that  backed 
his  luck,  the  odds  against  Red  Wing  were  forced 
down  from  fifteen  to  one  to  even  money.  His  ap 
proach  was  hailed  by  the  book-makers  either  with 
jeers  or  with  shouts  of  welcome.  Those  who  had 
lost  demanded  a  chance  to  regain  their  money. 
Those  with  whom  he  had  not  bet,  found  in  that 
fact  consolation,  and  chaffed  the  losers.  Some 
curtly  refused  even  the  smallest  part  of  his  money. 
"Not  with  me!"  they  laughed.  From  stand  to 
stand  the  layers  of  odds  taunted  him,  or  each  other. 
"Don't  touch  it,  it's  tainted!"  they  shouted. 
"Look  out,  Joe,  he's  the  Jonah  man!"  Or,  "Come 
at  me  again!"  they  called.  "And,  once  more!" 
they  challenged  as  they  reached  for  a  thousand- 
dollar  bill. 

And,  when  in  time,  each  shook  his  head  and 
grumbled:    "That's  all   I  want,"  or  looked  the 

42 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

other  way,  the  mob  around  Carter  jeered.  "He's 
fought  'em  to  a  stand-still!"  they  shouted  jubi 
lantly.  In  their  eyes  a  man  who  alone  was  able 
and  willing  to  wipe  the  name  of  a  horse  off  the 
blackboards  was  a  hero. 

To  the  horror  of  Dolly,  instead  of  watching  the 
horses  parade  past,  the  crowd  gathered  in  front  of 
her  box  and  pointed  and  stared  at  her.  From  the 
club-house  her  men  friends  and  acquaintances  in 
vaded  it. 

"Has  Carter  gone  mad?"  they  demanded. 
"He's  dealing  out  thousand-dollar  bills  like  cig 
arettes.  He's  turned  the  ring  into  a  wheat  pit!" 

When  he  reached  the  box  a  sun-burned  man  in 
a  sombrero  blocked  his  way. 

"I'm  the  owner  of  Red  Wing,"  he  explained, 
"bred  him  and  trained  him  myself.  I  know  he'll 
be  lucky  if  he  gets  the  place.  You're  backing  him 
in  thousands  to  win.  What  do  you  know  about 
him?" 

"  Know  he  will  win,"  said  Carter. 

The  veteran  commissioner  of  the  club  stand  but 
tonholed  him.  "Mr.  Carter,"  he  begged,  "why 
don't  you  bet  through  me  ?  I'll  give  you  as  good 
odds  as  they  will  in  that  ring.  You  don't  want 
your  clothes  torn  off  you  and  your  money  taken 
from  you." 

43 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

"They  haven't  taken  such  a  lot  of  it  yet,"  said 
Carter. 

When  Red  Wing  won,  the  crowd  beneath  the 
box,  the  men  in  the  box,  and  the  people  standing 
around  it,  most  of  whom  had  followed  Carter's 
plunge,  cheered  and  fell  over  him,  to  shake  hands 
and  pound  him  on  the  back.  From  every  side 
excited  photographers  pointed  cameras,  and  Land 
er's  band  played:  "Every  Little  Bit  Added  to 
What  You've  Got  Makes  Just  a  Little  Bit  More." 
As  he  left  the  box  to  collect  his  money,  a  big  man 
with  a  brown  mustache  and  two  smooth-shaven 
giants  closed  in  around  him,  as  tackles  inter 
fere  for  the  man  who  has  the  ball.  The  big 
man  took  him  by  the  arm.  Carter  shook  himself 
free. 

"What's  the  idea  ?"  he  demanded. 

"I'm  Pinkerton,"  said  the  big  man  genially. 
"You  need  a  body-guard.  If  you've  got  an  empty 
seat  in  your  car,  I'll  drive  home  with  you." 

From  Cavanaugh  they  borrowed  a  book-maker's 
hand-bag  and  stuffed  it  with  thousand-dollar  bills. 
When  they  stepped  into  the  car  the  crowd  still  sur 
rounded  them. 

"He's  taking  it  home  in  a  trunk!"  they  yelled. 

That  night  the  "sporting  extras"  of  the  after 
noon  papers  gave  prominence  to  the  luck  at  the 

44 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

races  of  Champneys  Carter.  From  Cavanaugh 
and  the  book-makers,  the  racing  reporters  had 
gathered  accounts  of  his  winnings.  They  stated 
that  in  three  successive  days,  starting  with  one 
hundred  dollars,  he  had  at  the  end  of  the  third 
day  not  lost  a  single  bet,  and  that  afternoon,  on 
the  last  race  alone,  he  had  won  sixty  to  seventy 
thousand  dollars.  With  the  text,  they  "ran"  pict 
ures  of  Carter  at  the  track,  of  Dolly  in  her  box, 
and  of  Mrs.  Ingram  in  a  tiara  and  ball-dress. 

"Mother-in-law  will  be  pleased!"  cried  Carter. 

In  some  alarm  as  to  what  the  newspapers  might 
say  on  the  morrow,  he  ordered  that  in  the  morning 
a  copy  of  each  be  sent  to  his  room.  That  night  in 
his  dreams  he  saw  clouds  of  dust-covered  jackets 
and  horses  with  sweating  flanks,  and  one  of  them 
named  Ambitious  led  all  the  rest.  When  he  woke, 
he  said  to  Dolly:  "That  horse  Ambitious  will  win 
to-day." 

"He  can  do  just  as  he  likes  about  that!"  replied 
Dolly.  "I  have  something  on  my  mind  much 
more  important  than  horse-racing.  To-day  you 
are  to  learn  how  I  spent  your  money.  It's  to  be  in 
the  morning  papers." 

When  he  came  to  breakfast,  Dolly  was  on  her 
knees.  For  his  inspection  she  had  spread  the 
newspapers  on  the  floor,  opened  at  an  advertise- 

45 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

ment  that  appeared  in  each.     In  the  centre  of  a 
half-page  of  white  paper  were  the  lines: 

SOLD  OUT  IN  ONE  DAY! 


ENTIRE  FIRST  EDITION 


THE  DEAD  HEAT 

BY 

CHAMPNEYS  CARTER 
SECOND  EDITION  ONE  HUNDRED  THOUSAND 

"In  Heaven's  name!"  roared  Carter.  "What 
does  this  mean  ? " 

"It  means,"  cried  Dolly  tremulously,  "I'm 
backing  my  dream.  I've  always  believed  in  your 
book.  Now,  I'm  backing  it.  Our  lawyers  sent  me 
to  an  advertising  agent.  His  name  is  Spink,  and  he 
is  awfully  clever.  I  asked  him  if  he  could  adver 
tise  a  book  so  as  to  make  it  sell.  He  said  with  my 
money  and  his  ideas  he  could  sell  last  year's  tele 
phone  book  to  people  who  did  not  own  a  telephone, 
and  who  had  never  learned  to  read.  He  is  proud 
of  his  ideas.  One  of  them  was  buying  out  the  first 
edition.  Your  publishers  told  him  your  book  was 
'waste  paper,'  and  that  he  could  have  every  copy 
in  stock  for  the  cost  of  the  plates.  So  he  bought 

46 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

the  whole  edition.  That's  how  it  was  sold  out  in 
one  day.  Then  we  ordered  a  second  edition  of  one 
hundred  thousand,  and  they're  printing  it  now. 

The  presses  have  been  working  all  night  to  meet 
the  demand!" 

"But,"  cried  Carter,  "there  isn't  any  demand!" 

"There  will  be,"  said  Dolly,  "when  five  million 
people  read  our  advertisements." 

She  dragged  him  to  the  window  and  pointed 
triumphantly  into  the  street. 

"See  that!"  she  said.  "Mr.  Spink  sent  them 
here  for  me  to  inspect." 

Drawn  up  in  a  line  that  stretched  from  Fifth 
Avenue  to  Broadway  were  an  army  of  sandwich 
men.  On  the  boards  they  carried  were  the  words: 
"Read  'The  Dead  Heat/  Second  Edition.  One 
Hundred  Thousand!"  On  the  fence  in  front  of 
the  building  going  up  across  the  street,  in  letters  a 
foot  high,  Carter  again  read  the  name  of  his  novel. 
In  letters  in  size  more  modest,  but  in  colors  more 
defiant,  it  glared  at  him  from  ash-cans  and  barrels. 

"How  much  does  this  cost?"   he  gasped. 

"It  cost  every  dollar  you  had  in  bank,"  said 
Dolly,  "and  before  we  are  through  it  will  cost  you 
twice  as  much  more.  Mr.  Spink  is  only  waiting 
to  hear  from  me  before  he  starts  spending  fifty 
thousand  dollars ;  that's  only  half  of  what  you  won 

47 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

on  Red  Wing.  I'm  only  waiting  for  you  to  make 
me  out  a  check  before  I  tell  Spink  to  start  spend 
ing  it." 

In  a  dazed  state  Carter  drew  a  check  for  fifty 
thousand  dollars  and  meekly  handed  it  to  his  wife. 
They  carried  it  themselves  to  the  office  of  Mr. 
Spink.  On  their  way,  on  every  side  they  saw  evi 
dences  of  his  handiwork.  On  walls,  on  scaffold 
ing,  on  bill-boards  were  advertisements  of  "The 
Dead  Heat."  Over  Madison  Square  a  huge  kite 
as  large  as  a  Zeppelin  air-ship  painted  the  name  of 
the  book  against  the  sky,  on  "dodgers"  it  floated 
in  the  air,  on  handbills  it  stared  up  from  the 
gutters. 

Mr.  Spink  was  a  nervous  young  man  with  a 
bald  head  and  eye-glasses.  He  grasped  the  check 
as  a  general  might  welcome  fifty  thousand  fresh 
troops. 

"Reinforcements!"  he  cried.  "Now,  watch  me. 
Now  I  can  do  things  that  are  big,  national,  Napo 
leonic.  We  can't  get  those  books  bound  inside 
of  a  week,  but  meanwhile  orders  will  be  pour 
ing  in,  people  will  be  growing  crazy  for  it.  Every 
man,  woman,  and  child  in  Greater  New  York  will 
want  a  copy.  I've  sent  out  fifty  boys  dressed  as 
jockeys  on  horseback  to  ride  neck  and  neck  up 
and  down  every  avenue.  'The  Dead  Heat'  is 

48 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

printed  on  the  saddle-cloth.     Half  of  them  have 
been   arrested   already.     It's   a   little  idea  of  my 


own." 


"But,"  protested  Carter,  "it's  not  a  racing  story, 
it's  a  detective  story!" 

"The  devil  it  is!"  gasped  Spink.  "But  what's 
the  difference!"  he  exclaimed.  "They've  got  to 
buy  it  anyway.  They'd  buy  it  if  it  was  a  cook 
book.  And,  I  say,"  he  cried  delightedly,  "that's 
great  press  work  you're  doing  for  the  book  at  the 
races!  The  papers  are  full  of  you  this  morning, 
and  every  man  who  reads  about  your  luck  at  the 
track  will  see  your  name  as  the  author  of  '  The 
Dead  Heat,'  and  will  rush  to  buy  the  book.  He'll 
think  'The  Dead  Heat'  is  a  guide  to  the  turf!" 

When  Carter  reached  the  track  he  found  his 
notoriety  had  preceded  him.  Ambitious  did  not 
run  until  the  fourth  race,  and  until  then,  as  he  sat 
in  his  box,  an  eager  crowd  surged  below.  He  had 
never  known  such  popularity.  The  crowd  had 
read  the  newspapers,  and  such  head-lines  as  "He 
Cannot  Lose!"  "Young  Carter  Wins  $70,000!" 
"Boy  Plunger  Wins  Again!"  "Carter  Makes  Big 
Killing!"  "The  Ring  Hit  Hard!"  "The  Man 
Who  Cannot  Lose!"  "Carter  Beats  Book-mak 
ers!"  had  whetted  their  curiosity  and  filled  many 
with  absolute  faith  in  his  luck.  Men  he  had  not 

49 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

seen  in  years  grasped  him  by  the  hand  and  care 
lessly  asked  if  he  could  tell  of  something  good. 
Friends  old  and  new  begged  him  to  dine  with  them, 
to  immediately  have  a  drink  with  them,  at  least  to 
"try"  a  cigar.  Men  who  protested  they  had  lost 
their  all  begged  for  just  a  hint  which  would  help 
them  to  come  out  even,  and  every  one,  without 
exception,  assured  him  he  was  going  to  buy  his 
latest  book. 

"I  tried  to  get  it  last  night  at  a  dozen  news 
stands,"  many  of  them  said,  "but  they  told  me 
the  entire  edition  was  exhausted." 

The  crowd  of  hungry-eyed  race-goers  waiting 
below  the  box,  and  watching  Carter's  every  move 
ment,  distressed  Dolly. 

"I  hate  it!"  she  cried.  "They  look  at  you  like 
a  lot  of  starved  dogs  begging  for  a  bone.  Let's  go 
home;  we  don't  want  to  make  any  more  money, 
and  we  may  lose  what  we  have.  And  I  want  it 
all  to  advertise  the  book." 

"If  you're  not  careful,"  said  Carter,  "some  one 
will  buy  that  book  and  read  it,  and  then  you  and 
Spink  will  have  to  take  shelter  in  a  cyclone  cellar." 

When  he  arose  to  make  his  bet  on  Ambitious, 
his  friends  from  the  club  stand  and  a  half-dozen 
of  Pinkerton's  men  closed  in  around  him  and  in 
a  flying  wedge  pushed  into  the  ring.  The  news- 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

papers  had  done  their  work,  and  he  was  instantly 
surrounded  by  a  hungry,  howling  mob.  In  com 
parison  with  the  one  of  the  previous  day,  it  was 
as  a  foot-ball  scrimmage  to  a  run  on  a  bank.  When 
he  made  his  first  wager  and  the  crowd  learned  the 
name  of  the  horse,  it  broke  with  a  yell  into  hun 
dreds  of  flying  missiles  which  hurled  themselves  at 
the  book-makers.  Under  their  attack,  as  on  the 
day  before,  Ambitious  receded  to  even  money. 
There  was  hardly  a  person  at  the  track  who  did 
not  back  the  luck  of  the  man  who  "could  not  lose." 
And  when  Ambitious  won  easily,  it  was  not  the 
horse  or  his  jockey  that  was  cheered,  but  the 
young  man  in  the  box. 

In  New  York  the  extras  had  already  announced 
that  he  was  again  lucky,  and  when  Dolly  and 
Carter  reached  the  bank  they  found  the  entire 
staff  on  hand  to  receive  him  and  his  winnings. 
They  amounted  to  a  sum  so  magnificent  that  Car 
ter  found  for  the  rest  of  their  lives  the  interest 
would  furnish  Dolly  and  himself  an  income  upon 
which  they  could  live  modestly  and  well. 

A  distinguished-looking,  white-haired  official  of 
the  bank  congratulated  Carter  warmly.  "Should 
you  wish  to  invest  some  of  this,"  he  said,  "I  should 
be  glad  to  advise  you.  My  knowledge  in  that  di 
rection  may  be  wider  than  your  own." 

S1 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

Carter  murmured  his  thanks.  The  white-haired 
gentleman  lowered  his  voice. 

"On  certain  other  subjects,"  he  continued,  "you 
know  many  things  of  which  I  am  totally  ignorant. 
Could  you  tell  me,"  he  asked  carelessly,  "who  will 
win  the  Suburban  to-morrow?" 

Carter  frowned  mysteriously.  "I  can  tell  you 
better  in  the  morning,"  he  said.  "It  looks  like 
Beldame,  with  Proper  and  First  Mason  within 
call." 

The  white-haired  man  showed  his  surprise  and 
also  that  his  ignorance  was  not  as  profound  as  he 
suggested. 

"I  thought  the  Keene  entry — "  he  ventured. 

"I  know,"  said  Carter  doubtfully.  "If  it  were 
for  a  mile,  I  would  say  Delhi,  but  I  don't  think 
he  can  last  the  distance.  In  the  morning  I'll  wire 
you." 

As  they  settled  back  in  their  car,  Carter  took 
both  of  Dolly's  hands  in  his.  "So  far  as  money 
goes,"  he  said,  "we  are  independent  of  your 
mother — independent  of  my  books;  and  I  want  to 
make  you  a  promise.  I  want  to  promise  you  that, 
no  matter  what  I  dream  in  the  future,  I'll  never 
back  another  horse." 

Dolly  gave  a  gasp  of  satisfaction. 

"And  what's  more,"  added  Carter  hastily,  "not 
52 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

another  dollar  can  you  risk  in  backing  my  books. 
After  this,  they've  got  to  stand  or  fall  on  their 
legs!" 

"Agreed!"   cried   Dolly.     "Our  plunging  days 


are  over." 


When  they  reached  the  flat  they  found  waiting 
for  Carter  the  junior  partner  of  a  real  publishing 
house.  He  had  a  blank  contract,  and  he  wanted 
to  secure  the  right  to  publish  Carter's  next  book. 

"I  have  a  few  short  stories — "  suggested  Carter. 

"Collections  of  short  stories,"  protested  the 
visitor  truthfully,  "do  not  sell.  We  would  prefer 
another  novel  on  the  same  lines  as  'The  Dead 
Heat.5 " 

"Have  you  read  'The  Dead  Heat'?"  asked 
Carter. 

"I  have  not,"  admitted  the  publisher,  "but  the 
next  book  by  the  same  author  is  sure  to —  We 
will  pay  in  advance  of  royalties  fifteen  thousand 
dollars." 

"Could  you  put  that  in  writing  ?"  asked  Carter. 
When  the  publisher  was  leaving  he  said: 

"I  see  your  success  in  literature  is  equalled  by 
your  success  at  the  races.  Could  you  tell  me  what 
will  win  the  Suburban  ?" 

"I  will  send  you  a  wire  in  the  morning"  said 
Carter. 

S3 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

They  had  arranged  to  dine  with  some  friends 
and  later  to  visit  a  musical  comedy.  Carter  had 
changed  his  clothes,  and,  while  he  was  waiting  for 
Dolly  to  dress,  was  reclining  in  a  huge  arm-chair. 
The  heat  of  the  day,  the  excitement,  and  the  wear 
on  his  nerves  caused  his  head  to  sink  back,  his 
eyes  to  close,  and  his  limbs  to  relax. 

When,  by  her  entrance,  Dolly  woke  him,  he 
jumped  up  in  some  confusion. 

"You've  been  asleep,"  she  mocked. 

"Worse!"  said  Carter.  "I've  been  dreaming! 
Shall  I  tell  you  who  is  going  to  win  the  Suburban  ?" 

"Champneys!"  cried  Dolly  in  alarm. 

"My  dear  Dolly,"  protested  her  husband,  "I 
promised  to  stop  betting.  I  did  not  promise  to 
stop  sleeping." 

"Well,"  sighed  Dolly,  with  relief,  "as  long  as  it 
stops  at  that.  Delhi  will  win,"  she  added. 

"Delhi  will  not,"  said  Carter.  "This  is  how 
they  will  finish."  He  scribbled  three  names  on  a 
piece  of  paper  which  Dolly  read. 

"But  that,"  she  said,  "is  what  you  told  the  gen 
tleman  at  the  bank." 

Carter  stared  at  her  blankly  and  in  some  em 
barrassment. 

"You  see!"  cried  Dolly,  "what  you  think  when 
you're  awake,  you  dream  when  you're  asleep. 

54 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

And  you  had  a  run  of  luck  that  never  happened 
before  and  could  never  happen  again." 

Carter  received  her  explanation  with  reluctance. 
"I  wonder,"  he  said. 

On  arriving  at  the  theatre  they  found  their  host 
had  reserved  a  stage-box,  and  as  there  were  but 
four  in  their  party,  and  as,  when  they  entered,  the 
house  lights  were  up,  their  arrival  drew  upon  them 
the  attention  both  of  those  in  the  audience  and  of 
those  on  the  stage.  The  theatre  was  crowded  to  its 
capacity,  and  in  every  part  were  people  who  were 
habitual  race-goers,  as  well  as  many  racing  men 
who  had  come  to  town  for  the  Suburban.  By 
these,  as  well  as  by  many  others  who  for  three  days 
had  seen  innumerable  pictures  of  him,  Carter  was 
instantly  recognized.  To  the  audience  and  to  the 
performers  the  man  who  always  won  was  of  far 
greater  interest  than  what  for  the  three-hundredth 
night  was  going  forward  on  the  stage.  And  when 
the  leading  woman,  Blanche  Winter,  asked  the 
comedian  which  he  would  rather  be,  "the  Man 
Who  Broke  the  Bank  at  Monte  Carlo  or  the  Man 
Who  Can  Not  Lose?"  she  gained  from  the  audi 
ence  an  easy  laugh  and  from  the  chorus  an  ex 
cited  giggle. 

When,  at  the  end  of  the  act,  Carter  went  into  the 
lobby  to  smoke,  he  was  so  quickly  surrounded  that 

55 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

he  sought  refuge  on  Broadway.  From  there,  the 
crowd  still  following  him,  he  was  driven  back  into 
his  box.  Meanwhile,  the  interest  shown  in  him 
had  not  been  lost  upon  the  press  agent  of  the 
theatre,  and  he  at  once  telephoned  to  the  news 
paper  offices  that  Plunger  Carter,  the  book-maker 
breaker,  was  at  that  theatre,  and  that  if  the  news 
papers  wanted  a  chance  to  interview  him  on  the 
probable  outcome  of  the  classic  handicap  to  be 
run  on  the  morrow,  he,  the  press  agent,  would 
unselfishly  assist  them.  In  answer  to  these  hurry 
calls,  reporters  of  the  Ten  o'Clock  Club  assembled 
in  the  foyer.  How  far  what  later  followed  was 
due  to  their  presence  and  to  the  efforts  of  the  press 
agent  only  that  gentleman  can  tell.  It  was  in  the 
second  act  that  Miss  Blanche  Winter  sang  her  top 
ical  song.  In  it  she  advised  the  audience  when 
anxious  to  settle  any  question  of  personal  or  na 
tional  interest  to  "Put  it  up  to  the  Man  in  the 
Moon."  This  night  she  introduced  a  verse  in 
which  she  told  of  her  desire  to  know  which  horse 
on  the  morrow  would  win  the  Suburban,  and,  in 
the  chorus,  expressed  her  determination  to  "Put 
it  up  to  the  Man  in  the  Moon." 

Instantly  from  the  back  of  the  house  a  voice 
called:  "Why  don't  you  put  it  up  to  the  Man  in 
the  Box?"  Miss  Winter  laughed — the  audience 

56 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

laughed;  all  eyes  were  turned  toward  Carter.  As 
though  the  idea  pleased  them,  from  different  parts 
of  the  house  people  applauded  heartily.  In  em 
barrassment,  Carter  shoved  back  his  chair  and 
pulled  the  curtain  of  the  box  between  him  and  the 
audience.  But  he  was  not  so  easily  to  escape. 
Leaving  the  orchestra  to  continue  unheeded  with 
the  prelude  to  the  next  verse,  Miss  Winter  walked 
slowly  and  deliberately  toward  him,  smiling  mis 
chievously.  In  burlesque  entreaty,  she  held  out 
her  arms.  She  made  a  most  appealing  and  charm 
ing  picture,  and  of  that  fact  she  was  well  aware. 
In  a  voice  loud  enough  to  reach  every  part  of  the 
house,  she  addressed  herself  to  Carter: 

"Won't  you  tell  ME  ?"  she  begged. 

Carter,  blushing  unhappily,  shrugged  his  shoul 
ders  in  apology. 

With  a  wave  of  her  hand  Miss  Winter  desig 
nated  the  audience.  "Then,"  she  coaxed,  re 
proachfully,  "won't  you  tell  them?" 

Again,  instantly,  with  a  promptness  and  una 
nimity  that  sounded  suspiciously  as  though  it 
came  from  ushers  well  rehearsed,  several  voices 
echoed  her  petition:  "Give  us  all  a  chance!" 
shouted  one.  "Don't  keep  the  good  things  to 
yourself!"  reproached  another.  "7  want  to  get 
rich,  TOO!"  wailed  a  third.  In  his  heart,  Carter 

57 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

prayed  they  would  choke.  But  the  audience,  so 
far  from  resenting  the  interruptions,  encouraged 
them,  and  Carter's  obvious  discomfort  added  to 
its  amusement.  It  proceeded  to  assail  him  with 
applause,  with  appeals,  with  commands  to  "speak 
up." 

The  hand-clapping  became  general — insistent. 
The  audience  would  not  be  denied.  Carter  turned 
to  Dolly.  In  the  recesses  of  the  box  she  was 
enjoying  his  predicament.  His  friends  also  were 
laughing  at  him.  Indignant  at  their  desertion, 
Carter  grinned  vindictively.  "All  right,"  he  mut 
tered  over  his  shoulder.  "Since  you  think  it's 
funny,  I'll  show  you!"  He  pulled  his  pencil  from 
his  watch-chain  and,  spreading  his  programme  on 
the  ledge  of  the  box,  began  to  write. 

From  the  audience  there  rose  a  murmur  of  in 
credulity,  of  surprise,  of  excited  interest.  In  the 
rear  of  the  house  the  press  agent,  after  one  startled 
look,  doubled  up  in  an  ecstasy  of  joy.  "We've 
landed  him!"  he  gasped.  "We've  landed  him! 
He's  going  to  fall  for  it!" 

Dolly  frantically  clasped  her  husband  by  the 
coat-tail. 

"Champ!"  she  implored,  "what  are  you  do- 
ing?" 

Quite  calmly,  quite  confidently,  Carter  rose. 
58 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

Leaning  forward  with  a  nod  and  a  smile,  he 
presented  the  programme  to  the  beautiful  Miss 
Winter.  That  lady  all  but  snatched  at  it.  The 
spot-light  was  full  in  her  eyes.  Turning  her  back 
that  she  might  the  more  easily  read,  she  stood  for 
a  moment,  her  pretty  figure  trembling  with  eager 
ness,  her  pretty  eyes  bent  upon  the  programme. 
The  house  had  grown  suddenly  still,  and  with  an 
excited  gesture,  the  leader  of  the  orchestra  com 
manded  the  music  to  silence.  A  man,  bursting 
with  impatience,  broke  the  tense  quiet.  "Read 
it!"  he  shouted. 

In  a  frightened  voice  that  in  the  sudden  hush 
held  none  of  its  usual  confidence,  Miss  Winter 
read  slowly:  "The  favorite  cannot  last  the  dis 
tance.  Will  lead  for  the  mile  and  give  way  to 
Beldame.  Proper  takes  the  place.  First  Mason 
will  show.  Beldame  will  win  by  a  length." 

Before  she  had  ceased  reading,  a  dozen  men 
had  struggled  to  their  feet  and  a  hundred  voices 
were  roaring  at  her.  "Read  that  again!"  they 
chorused.  Once  more  Miss  Winter  read  the  mes 
sage,  but  before  she  had  finished  half  of  those 
in  the  front  rows  were  scrambling  from  their 
seats  and  racing  up  the  aisles.  Already  the  re 
porters  were  ahead  of  them,  and  in  the  neighbor 
hood  not  one  telephone  booth  was  empty.  Within 

59 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

five  minutes,  in  those  hotels  along  the  White  Way 
where  sporting  men  are  wont  to  meet,  betting  com 
missioners  and  hand-book  men  were  suddenly  as 
saulted  by  breathless  gentlemen,  some  in  evening 
dress,  some  without  collars,  and  some  without  hats, 
but  all  with  money  to  bet  against  the  favorite. 
And,  an  hour  later,  men,  bent  under  stacks  of 
newspaper  "extras,"  were  vomited  from  the  sub 
way  stations  into  the  heart  of  Broadway,  and  in 
raucous  tones  were  shrieking  "Winner  of  the  Sub 
urban"  sixteen  hours  before  that  race  was  run. 
That  night  to  every  big  newspaper  office  from 
Maine  to  California,  was  flashed  the  news  that 
Plunger  Carter,  in  a  Broadway  theatre,  had  an 
nounced  that  the  favorite  for  the  Suburban  would 
be  beaten,  and,  in  order,  had  named  the  three 
horses  that  would  first  finish. 

Up  and  down  Broadway,  from  rathskellers  to 
roof-gardens,  in  cafes  and  lobster  palaces,  on  the 
corners  of  the  cross-roads,  in  clubs  and  all-night 
restaurants,  Carter's  tip  was  as  a  red  rag  to  a  bull. 

Was  the  boy  drunk,  they  demanded,  or  had 
his  miraculous  luck  turned  his  head  ?  Otherwise, 
why  would  he  so  publicly  utter  a  prophecy  that 
on  the  morrow  must  certainly  smother  him  with 
ridicule.  The  explanations  were  varied.  The 
men  in  the  clubs  held  he  was  driven  by  a  desire 

60 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

for  notoriety,  the  men  in  the  street  that  he  was 
more  clever  than  they  guessed,  and  had  made  the 
move  to  suit  his  own  book,  to  alter  the  odds  to 
his  own  advantage.  Others  frowned  mysteriously. 
With  superstitious  faith  in  his  luck,  they  pointed  to 
his  record.  "Has  he  ever  lost  a  bet  ?  How  do  we 
know  what  he  knows?"  they  demanded.  "Per 
haps  it's  fixed  and  he  knows  it!" 

The  "wise"  ones  howled  in  derision.  "A  Sub 
urban  FIXED!"  they  retorted.  "You  can  fix  one 
jockey,  you  can  fix  two;  but  you  can't  fix  six 
teen  jockeys!  You  can't  fix  Belmont,  you  can't 
fix  Keene.  There's  nothing  in  his  picking  Bel 
dame,  but  only  a  crazy  man  would  pick  the  horse 
for  the  place  and  to  show,  and  shut  out  the  favor 
ite!  The  boy  ought  to  be  in  Matteawan." 

Still  undisturbed,  still  confident  to  those  to  whom 
he  had  promised  them,  Carter  sent  a  wire.  Nor 
did  he  forget  his  old  enemy,  "Sol"  Burbank.  "If 
you  want  to  get  some  of  the  money  I  took,"  he  tele 
graphed,  "wipe  out  the  Belmont  entry  and  take  all 
they  offer  on  Delhi.  He  cannot  win." 

And  that  night,  when  each  newspaper  called  him 
up  at  his  flat,  he  made  the  same  answer.  "The 
three  horses  will  finish  as  I  said.  You  can  state 
that  I  gave  the  information  as  I  did  as  a  sort  of 
present  to  the  people  of  New  York  City." 

61 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

In  the  papers  the  next  morning  "Carter's  Tip" 
was  the  front-page  feature.  Even  those  who  never 
in  the  racing  of  horses  felt  any  concern  could  not 
help  but  take  in  the  outcome  of  this  one  a  curi 
ous  interest.  The  audacity  of  the  prophecy,  the 
very  absurdity  of  it,  presupposing,  as  it  did,  occult 
power,  was  in  itself  amusing.  And  when  the  cur 
tain  rose  on  the  Suburban  it  was  evident  that  to 
thousands  what  the  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 
had  foretold  was  a  serious  and  inspired  utterance. 

This  time  his  friends  gathered  around  him,  not 
to  benefit  by  his  advice,  but  to  protect  him. 
"They'll  mob  you!"  they  warned.  "They'll  tear 
the  clothes  off  your  back.  Better  make  your  get 
away  now." 

Dolly,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  sat  beside  him. 
Every  now  and  again  she  touched  his  hand. 
Below  his  box,  as  around  a  newspaper  office  on 
the  night  when  a  president  is  elected,  the  people 
crushed  in  a  turbulent  mob.  Some  mocked  and 
jeered,  some  who  on  his  tip  had  risked  their  every 
dollar  hailed  him  hopefully.  On  every  side  police 
men,  fearful  of  coming  trouble,  hemmed  him  in. 
Carter  was  bored  extremely,  heartily  sorry  he  had 
on  the  night  before  given  way  to  what  he  now 
saw  as  a  perverse  impulse.  But  he  still  was  con 
fident,  still  undismayed. 

62 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

To  all  eyes,  except  those  of  Dolly,  he  was  of  all 
those  at  the  track  the  least  concerned.  To  her  he 
turned  and,  in  a  low  tone,  spoke  swiftly.  "I  am 
so  sorry,"  he  begged.  "But,  indeed,  indeed,  I 
can't  lose.  You  must  have  faith  in  me." 

"In  you,  yes,"  returned  Dolly  in  a  whisper,  "but 
in  your  dreams,  no!" 

The  horses  were  passing  on  their  way  to  the 
post.  Carter  brought  his  face  close  to  hers. 
"I'm  going  to  break  my  promise,"  he  said,  "and 
make  one  more  bet,  this  one  with  you.  I  bet  you 
a  kiss  that  I'm  right." 

Dolly,  holding  back  her  tears,  smiled  mourn 
fully.  ' 

"Make  it  a  hundred,"  she  said. 

Half  of  the  forty  thousand  at  the  track  had 
backed  Delhi,  the  other  half,  following  Carter's 
luck  and  his  confidence  in  proclaiming  his  convic 
tions,  had  backed  Beldame.  Many  hundred  had 
gone  so  far  as  to  bet  that  the  three  horses  he  had 
named  would  finish  as  he  had  foretold.  But,  in 
spite  of  Carter's  tip,  Delhi  still  was  the  favorite, 
and  when  the  thousands  saw  the  Keene  polka-dots 
leap  to  the  front,  and  by  two  lengths  stay  there, 
for  the  quarter,  the  half,  and  for  the  three-quarters, 
the  air  was  shattered  with  jubilant,  triumphant 
yells.  And  then  suddenly,  with  the  swiftness  of  a 

63 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

moving  picture,  in  the  very  moment  of  his  victory, 
Beldame  crept  up  on  the  favorite,  drew  alongside, 
drew  ahead,  passed  him,  and  left  him  beaten. 

It  was  at  the  mile. 

The  night  before  a  man  had  risen  in  a  theatre 
and  said  to  two  thousand  people:  "The  favorite 
will  lead  for  the  mile,  and  give  way  to  Beldame/' 
Could  they  have  believed  him,  the  men  who  now 
cursed  themselves  might  for  the  rest  of  their  lives 
have  lived  upon  their  winnings.  Those  who  had 
followed  his  prophecy  faithfully,  superstitiously, 
now  shrieked  in  happy,  riotous  self-congratula 
tion.  "At  the  MILE!"  they  yelled.  "He  TOLD 
you,  at  the  MILE!"  They  turned  toward  Carter 
and  shook  Panama  hats  at  him.  "Oh  you  Car 
ter!"  they  shrieked  lovingly. 

It  was  more  than  a  race  the  crowd  was  watching 
now,  it  was  the  working  out  of  a  promise.  And 
when  Beldame  stood  off  Proper's  rush,  and  Proper 
fell  to  second,  and  First  Mason  followed  three 
lengths  in  the  rear,  and  in  that  order  they  flashed 
under  the  wire,  the  yells  were  not  that  a  race  had 
been  won,  but  that  a  prophecy  had  been  fulfilled. 

Of  the  thousands  that  cheered  Carter  and  fell 
upon  him  and  indeed  did  tear  his  clothes  off  his 
back,  one  of  his  friends  alone  was  sufficiently  un 
selfish  to  think  of  what  it  might  mean  to  Carter. 

64 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

"Champ!"  roared  this  friend,  pounding  him  on 
both  shoulders.  "You  old  wizard!  I  win  ten 
thousand!  How  much  do  you  win  ?" 

Carter  cast  a  swift  glance  at  Dolly.  "Oh!"  he 
said,  "I  win  much  more  than  that." 

And  Dolly,  raising  her  eyes  to  his,  nodded  and 
smiled  contentedly. 


AND  HERE  IS  THE  EXPLANATION 


HERE  IS  THE  WAY  TO  REACH  THE 
"MAN  INSIDE  YOU" 


Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose,"  as 
written  by  Richard  Harding  Davis,  is  mere 
fiction,  of  course.  Well  written  and  interesting, 
but  fiction.  And  yet  —  if  races  were  won  solely  on 
the  speed  and  stamina  of  the  horses,  it  would  be 
entirely  possible  to  work  out  the  results  in  just 
the  way  outlined  by  Davis.  Unfortunately,  other 
factors  frequently  enter  into  every  betting  game. 

But  the  idea  behind  Davis1  story  is  entirely 
right.  The  way  to  contact  with  your  subconscious 
mind,  the  way  to  get  the  help  of  The  Man  Inside 
You  in  working  out  any  problem,  is  to  : 

First,  fill  your  mind  with  every  bit  of  informa 
tion  regarding  that  problem  that  you  can  lay  your 
hands  on. 

Second,  pick  out  a  chair  or  a  lounge  or  bed 
where  you  can  recline  in  perfect  comfort,  where 
you  can  forget  your  body  entirely. 

Third,  let  your  mind  dwell  upon  the  problem 
for  a  moment,  not  worrying,  not  fretting,  but 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

placidly,  and  then  turn  it  over  to  The  Man  Inside 
You.  Say  to  him — "This  is  your  problem.  You 
know  the  answer  to  everything.  Work  this  out 
for  mel"  And  utterly  relax,  secure  in  the  BE 
LIEF — nay,  more  than  belief — the  absolute 
KNOWLEDGE  that  your  subconscious  mind 
can  and  will  work  out  the  answer  for  you.  Drop 
off  to  sleep,  if  you  can.  At  least,  drop  into  one  of 
those  half-sleepy,  half-wakeful  reveries  that  keep 
other  thoughts  from  obtruding  upon  your  con 
sciousness.  When  you  waken,  you  will  have  the 
answer. 

For  whatever  thought,  whatever  problem  you 
can  get  across  to  your  subconscious  mind  at  the 
moment  of  dropping  off  to  sleep,  that  Man  In 
side  You,  that  Genie-of-your-Mind  will  work  out 
for  you. 

Of  course,  not  everyone  can  succeed  in  getting 
his  thoughts  across  to  the  subconscious  at  the  first, 
or  the  second,  or  even  the  twentieth  attempt.  It 
is  a  knack  that  requires  practice,  like  every  other. 
But  keep  on  trying  and  you  WILL  do  it.  And 
when  you  do,  the  results  are  sure. 

If  it  is  something  that  you  want,  VISUALIZE 
it  first  in  your  mind's  eye,  see  it  in  every  possible 
detail,  see  yourself  going  through  every  move  it 
will  be  necessary  for  you  to  go  through  when 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

your  wish  comes  into  being.  Build  up  a  complete 
story,  step  by  step,  just  as  though  you  were  acting 
it  all  out.  Get  from  it  every  ounce  of  pleasure 
and  satisfaction  that  you  can.  Be  thankful  for 
this  gift  that  has  come  to  you. 

When  you  waken,  hold  it  all  pleasantly  in 
thought  again  for  a  few  moments.  Don't  let 
doubts  and  fears  creep  in,  but  go  ahead,  confi 
dently,  knowing  that  your  wish  is  working  itself 
out.  Know  this,  believe  it — and  if  there  is  noth 
ing  harmful  in  it,  IT  WILL  WORK  OUT! 

"In  the  Inner  Consciousness  of  each  of  us," 
quotes  Dumont  in  "The  Master  Mind,"  "there 
are  forces  which  act  much  the  same  as  would 
countless  tiny  mental  brownies  or  helpers  who  are 
anxious  and  willing  to  assist  us  in  our  mental  work, 
if  we  will  but  have  confidence  and  trust  in  them. 
This  is  a  psychological  truth  expressed  in  the 
terms  of  the  old  fairy  tales.  The  process  of  call 
ing  into  service  these  Inner  Consciousness  helpers 
is  similar  to  that  which  we  constantly  employ  to 
recall  some  forgotten  fact  or  name.  We  find  that 
we  cannot  recollect  some  desired  fact,  date,  or 
name,  and  instead  of  racking  our  brains  with  an 
increased  effort,  we  (if  we  have  learned  the 
secret)  pass  on  the  matter  to  the  Inner  Conscious 
ness  with  a  silent  command,  'Recollect  this  name 

3 


Jhe  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

for  me,'  and  then  go  on  with  our  ordinary  work. 
After  a  few  minutes — or  it  may  be  hours — all  of 
a  sudden,  pop  I  will  come  the  missing  name  or  fact 
before  us — flashed  from  the  planes  of  the  Inner 
Consciousness,  by  the  help  of  the  kindly  workers 
or  'brownies'  of  those  planes.  The  experience  is 
so  common  that  we  have  ceased  to  wonder  at  it, 
and  yet  it  is  a  wonderful  manifestation  of  the 
Inner  Consciousness  workings  of  the  mind.  Stop 
and  think  a  moment,  and  you  will  see  that  the 
missing  word  does  not  present  itself  accidentally, 
or  'just  because.'  There  are  mental  processes  at 
work  for  your  benefit,  and  when  they  have  worked 
out  the  problem  for  you  they  gleefully  push  it  up 
from  their  plane  on  to  the  plane  of  the  outer 
consciousness  where  you  may  use  it. 

"We  know  of  no  better  way  of  illustrating  the 
matter  than  by  this  fanciful  figure  of  the  'mental 
brownies,'  in  connection  with  the  illustration  of 
the  'subconscious  storehouse.'  If  you  would  learn 
to  take  advantage  of  the  work  of  these  Subcon 
scious  Brownies,  we  advise  you  to  form  a  mental 
picture  of  the  Subconscious  Storehouse  in  which  is 
stored  all  sorts  of  knowledge  that  you  have  placed 
there  during  your  lifetime,  as  well  as  the  impres 
sions  that  you  have  acquired  by  race  inheritance — 
racial  memory,  in  fact.  The  information  stored 

4 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

away  has  often  been  placed  in  the  storage  rooms 
without  any  regard  for  systematic  storing,  or  ar 
rangement,  and  when  you  wish  to  find  something 
that  has  been  stored  away  there  a  long  time  ago, 
the  exact  place  being  forgotten,  you  are  compelled 
to  call  to  your  assistance  the  little  brownies  of  the 
mind,  which  perform  faithfully  your  mental  com 
mand,  'Recollect  this  for  me!'  These  brownies 
are  the  same  little  chaps  that  you  charge  with  the 
task  of  waking  you  at  four  o'clock  tomorrow 
morning  when  you  wish  to  catch  an  early  train — 
and  they  obey  you  well  in  this  work  of  the  mental 
alarm-clock.  These  same  little  chaps  will  also 
flash  into  your  consciousness  the  report  'I  have  an 
engagement  at  two  o'clock  with  Jones' — when 
looking  at  your  watch  you  will  see  that  it  is  just 
a  quarter  before  the  hour  of  two,  the  time  of 
your  engagement. 

"Well  then,  if  you  will  examine  carefully  into 
a  subject  which  you  wish  to  master,  and  will  pass 
along  the  results  of  your  observations  to  these 
Subconscious  Brownies,  you  will  find  that  they 
will  work  the  raw  materials  of  thought  into  shape 
for  you  in  a  comparatively  short  time.  They  will 
arrange,  analyze,  systematize,  collate,  and  ar 
range  in  consecutive  order  the  various  details  of 
information  which  you  have  passed  on  to  them, 

5 


tThe  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

and  will  add  thereto  the  various  articles  of  similar 
information  that  they  will  find  stored  away  in  the 
various  recesses  of  your  memory.  In  this  way 
they  will  group  together  various  scattered  bits  of 
knowledge  that  you  have  forgotten.  And,  right 
here,  let  us  say  to  you  that  you  never  absolutely 
forget  anything  that  you  have  placed  in  your  mind. 
You  may  be  unable  to  recollect  certain  things,  but 
they  are  not  lost — sometime  later  some  associa 
tive  connection  will  be  made  with  some  other  fact, 
and  lo !  the  missing  idea  will  be  found  fitted  nicely 
into  its  place  in  the  larger  idea — the  work  of  our 
little  brownies.  Remember  Thompson's  state 
ment:  'In  view  of  having  to  wait  for  the  result 
of  these  unconscious  processes,  I  have  proved  the 
habit  of  getting  together  material  in  advance,  and 
then  leaving  the  mass  to  digest  itself  until  I  am 
ready  to  write  about  it.'  This  subconscious  'di 
gestion'  is  really  the  work  of  our  little  mental 
brownies. 

"There  are  many  ways  of  setting  the  brownies 
to  work.  Nearly  everyone  has  had  some  experi 
ence,  more  or  less,  in  the  matter,  although  often 
it  is  produced  almost  unconsciously,  and  without 
purpose  and  intent.  Perhaps  the  best  way  for  the 
average  person — or  rather  the  majority  of  per 
sons — to  get  the  desired  results  is  for  one  to  get 

6 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

as  clear  an  idea  of  what  one  really  wants  to  know 
— as  clear  an  idea  or  mental  image  of  the  question 
you  wish  answered.  Then  after  rolling  it  around 
in  your  mind — mentally  chewing  it,  as  it  were — 
giving  it  a  high  degree  of  voluntary  attention,  you 
can  pass  it  on  to  your  Subconscious  Mentality  with 
the  mental  command:  'Attend  to  this  for  me — 
work  out  the  answer!'  or  some  similar  order. 
This  command  may  be  given  silently  or  else  spoken 
aloud — either  will  do.  Speak  to  the  Subconscious 
Mentality — or  its  little  workers — just  as  you 
would  speak  to  persons  in  your  employ,  kindly  but 
firmly.  Talk  to  the  little  workers,  and  firmly 
command  them  to  do  your  work.  And  then  for 
get  all  about  the  matter — throw  it  off  your  con 
scious  mind,  and  attend  to  your  other  tasks.  Then 
in  due  time  will  come  your  answer — flashed  into 
your  consciousness — perhaps  not  until  the  very 
minute  that  you  must  decide  upon  the  matter,  or 
need  the  information.  You  may  give  your 
brownies  orders  to  report  at  such  and  such  a  time 
— just  as  you  do  when  you  tell  them  to  awaken 
you  at  a  certain  time  in  the  morning  so  as  to 
catch  the  early  train,  or  just  as  they  remind  you 
of  the  hour  of  your  appointment,  if  you  have  them 
well  trained." 

"My  Brownies !    God  bless  them  I"  said  Robert 
7 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

Louis  Stevenson.  "Who  do  one-half  of  my  work 
for  me  when  I  am  fast  asleep,  and  in  all  human 
likelihood  do  the  rest  for  me  as  well  when  I  am 
wide  awake  and  foolishly  suppose  that  I  do  it 
myself.  I  had  long  been  wanting  to  write  a  book 
on  man's  double  being.  For  two  days  I  went  about 
racking  my  brains  for  a  plot  of  any  sort,  and  on 
the  second  night  I  dreamt  the  scene  in  Dr.  Jekyll 
and  Mr.  Hyde  at  the  window;  and  a  scene,  after 
ward  split  in  two,  in  which  Hyde,  pursued,  took 
the  powder  and  underwent  the  change  in  the  pres 
ence  of  his  pursuer." 

Many  another  famous  writer  has  spoken  in 
similar  strain,  and  every  man  who  has  problems 
to  solve  has  had  like  experiences.  You  know  how, 
after  you  have  studied  a  problem  from  all  angles, 
it  sometimes  seems  worse  jumbled  than  when  you 
started  on  it?  But  leave  it  for  awhile — forget  it 
— and  when  you  go  back  to  it,  you  find  your 
thoughts  clarified,  the  line  of  reasoning  worked 
out,  your  problem  solved  for  you. 

Man's  principal  business  in  life,  as  I  see  it,  is 
to  establish  a  contact  with  the  "Man  Inside" — 
call  Him  the  "Brownies"  of  Stevenson,  the  Genii 
of  the  Arabian  Nights,  or  "The  Father  Within" 
that  Jesus  so  often  referred  to.  It  is  to  acquire 
an  understanding  of  this  Power  that  is  within  him. 

8 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

"Seek  ye  first  the  Kingdom  of  God,"  said  Jesus, 
"and  all  those  things  shall  be  added  unto  you." 

What  is  this  "Kingdom  of  God"? 

Jesus  tells  us — "The  Kingdom  of  God  is  within 
you."  It  is  the  "Father  within"  to  which  He  gave 
the  credit  for  all  of  His  wonderful  works.  It  is 
Mind — your  part  of  Universal  Mind.  "Seek  first 
the  Kingdom  of  God."  Seek  first  an  understand 
ing  of  this  Power  within  you — learn  to  contact 
with  it — to  use  it — "and  all  those  things  shall  be 
added  unto  you." 

All  riches  have  their  origin  in  mind.  Wealth 
is  in  ideas — not  money.  Money  is  merely  the 
material  medium  of  exchange  for  ideas.  The 
paper  money  in  your  pockets  is  in  itself  worth  no 
more  than  so  many  Russian  rubles.  It  is  the  idea 
behind  it  that  gives  it  its  value.  Factory  build 
ings,  machinery,  materials,  are  in  themselves 
worthless  without  a  manufacturing  or  a  selling 
idea  behind  them.  How  often  you  see  a  factory 
fall  to  pieces,  the  machinery  rust  away,  after  the 
idea  behind  them  gives  out.  Factories,  machines, 
are  simply  the  tools  of  trade.  It  is  the  idea  be 
hind  them  that  makes  them  go. 

So  don't  go  out  a-seeking  of  wealth.  Look 
within  you  for  ideas!  "The  Kingdom  of  God  is 
within  you."  Use  it— Purposefully!  Use  your 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

mind  to  THINK — constructively.  Don't  say  you 
are  thinking  when  all  you  are  doing  is  exercising 
your  faculty  of  memory.  As  Dumont  says  in 
"The  Master  Mind" — "They  are  simply  allow 
ing  the  stream  of  memory  to  flow  through  their 
field  of  consciousness,  while  the  Ego  stands  on  the 
banks  and  idly  watches  the  passing  waters  of  mem 
ory  flow  by.  They  call  this  'thinking'  while  in 
reality  there  is  no  process  of  Thought  under  way." 

They  are  like  the  old  mountaineer  sitting  in  the 
shade  alongside  his  cabin.  Asked  what  he  did  to 
pass  the  long  hours  away,  he  said — "Waal,  some 
times  I  set  and  think;  and  sometimes  I  just  set." 

As  Dumont  goes  on  to  say,  in  quoting  another 
writer:  "When  I  use  the  word  'thinking/  I  mean 
thinking  with  a  purpose,  with  an  end  in  view, 
thinking  to  solve  a  problem.  I  mean  the  kind  of 
thinking  that  is  forced  on  us  when  we  are  deciding 
on  a  course  to  pursue,  on  a  life  work  you  take  up 
perhaps:  the  kind  of  thinking  that  was  forced 
upon  us  in  our  younger  days  when  we  had  to  find 
a  solution  to  a  problem  in  mathematics,  or  when 
we  tackled  psychology  in  college.  I  do  not  mean 
'thinking'  in  snatches,  or  holding  petty  opinions 
on  this  subject  and  on  that.  I  mean  thought  on 
significant  questions  which  lie  outside  the  bounds 
of  your  narrow  personal  welfare.  This  is  the  kind 

10 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

of  thinking  which  is  now  so  rare  —  so  sadly 
needed  1" 

The  Kingdom  of  God  is  the  Kingdom  of 
Thought,  of  Achievement,  of  Health,  of  Happi 
ness  and  Prosperity.  "I  came  that  ye  might  have 
life  and  have  it  more  abundantly."  But  you  have 
got  to  seek  it.  You  have  got  to  do  more  than 
ponder.  You  have  got  to  think — to  think  con 
structively — to  seek  how  you  may  discover  new 
worlds,  new  methods,  new  needs,  to  send  the 
"Man  Inside  You"  out  after  those  things  you 
cannot  get  for  yourself. 

And  remember,  the  greatest  discoveries 
arise  out  of  something  which  everybody  has 
SEEN,  but  only  one  man  has  NOTICED.  The 
biggest  fortunes  are  made  out  of  the  opportunities 
which  many  men  HAD,  but  only  one  man  SAW. 

When  you  become  conscious,  even  to  a  limited 
degree,  of  your  oneness  with  "The  Father  Within 
You,"  of  your  ability  to  call  upon  Him  at  will  for 
anything  you  may  need,  after  you  have  done 
everything  in  your  power  and  failed,  it  makes  a 
different  man  of  you.  Gone  are  the  fears.  Gone 
are  the  worries.  You  know  that  your  success, 
your  health,  your  happiness  will  be  measured  only 
by  the  degree  to  which  you  can  impress  the  frui 
tion  of  your  desires  upon  Mind.  You  know 

ii 


The  Man  Who  Could  Not  Lose 

that  the  "Man  Inside  You"  will  bring  you  any 
thing  you  may  rightfully  need. 

That  knowledge  is  The  Talisman  of  Napoleon 
— the  confident  assurance  that  the  obstacle  is  not 
made  which  you  cannot  overcome,  the  odds  not 
computed  which  you  cannot  face. 

"Happy  is  the  man  that  findeth  wisdom, 
And  the  man  that  getteth  understanding. 
For  the  gaining  of  it  is  better  than  the  gaining  of 

silver. 

And  the  profit  thereof  than  fine  gold. 
She  is  more  precious  than  rubies : 
And  none  of  the  things  thou  canst  desire  are  to 

be  compared  unto  her. 
Length  of  days  is  in  her  right  hand: 
In  her  left  hand  are  riches  and  honor. 
Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness, 
And  all  her  paths  are  peace. 
She  is  a  tree  of  life  to  them  that  lay  hold  upon 

her. 
And  happy  is  everyone  that  retaineth  her." 

— Proverbs 

ROBERT  COLLIER 


12 


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